Seeker of the Soul: The Castanos Case Interview
by boswifedeb
Summary: After an eight year wait, Matt finally agrees to give reporter Giorgio Stavros the interview that he promised when they joined forces to take down an international serial killer - the PI's first case, and the beginnings of his present life. **Immediately follows "Package Deal". Rated T**
1. Chapter 1

**Seeker of the Soul: The Castanos Case Interview**

**Author's Note: **** This story makes reference to the season one episode "Get Houston". Hopefully it will answer a few questions. Enjoy! **Immediately follows "Package Deal"****

"**Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And when you look long into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you."  
Friedrich Nietzsche, **_**Beyond Good and Evil**_

**PROLOGUE**

_**August 23, 2013**_

CJ, now carrying Catey Rose in her arms, stepped out on the patio to see where her husband had gone, and was followed by Sheila and Lamar. In a moment they were joined by Bo who had just headed up to the house from the bunkhouse. He glanced back down the hill at his boss, and gestured over his shoulder at him. "Is he mad about something?" He had tried to talk to Matt but had been shut down.

Watching as her husband climbed the fence and slid onto the back of Cricket and started off through the pastures, CJ sighed. "I need to tell you all what happened while we were gone…but I would advise you not to say anything to him about it." They sat down at the table on the patio and CJ told them about the deaths of the Montoya brothers.

"Well they had it coming." Although he was surprised by how Matt had killed the second brother, Bo didn't see any reason for Houston to be upset by it.

"Yes, they did, but…" She looked back down toward the pasture as Matt was disappearing from sight over a hill. "The whole thing has brought back some memories from his time in the Army that he would rather not remember. You boys weren't around Matt when he first got back from the Army. He, uh…well, he had some problems."

Sheila, whose recently deceased husband had been in the Marine Corps for twenty years nodded. "It happens quite a bit. But he's been okay until…" She stopped.

"…Until he snapped Montoya's neck with a move that he used during the war." CJ finished the sentence for her. "I need y'all to know what happened before so that you can kind of help me and keep an eye on him."

"Matt and I graduated from Rice in 2001. He headed off to basic training in the Army and I headed for Harvard and law school." She looked down at her hands and smiled. "He and I had a little disagreement about him joining up. I tried to talk him out of it, but Matt was determined that he was going to join up and pay his dues: said he felt like he had been very lucky in his life and wanted to do his part. Of course at the time, there were rumors of weapons of mass destruction in Iraq, and the US and its allies had already tangled with Hussein and his army before. He knew that but it didn't make any difference."

Leaning back in the chair she looked at Bo and Lamar. "Matt and I never really argued until he told me at the beginning of his senior year in college what he was planning. I thought he had forgotten about the Army and was going to play pro football or baseball. He had scouts and teams watching him since he was a freshman in high school. But he hadn't forgotten. He said it was his duty to serve." CJ shook her head and smiled. "Boy, did we get into an argument. I wouldn't speak to him for three days, and when I did I told him that he was a fool to throw everything away just to go in the Army. You know, I'll never forget the look on his face. He looked so hurt. But we decided that we would agree to disagree and I secretly hoped that he would change his mind before graduation. Obviously, that didn't happen."

"The day that he left for basic at Fort Benning, I felt totally alone for the first time in almost thirteen years. We had spent almost every day together from the time we were ten up until he left that day. The minute I saw that plane take off…" She stopped for a minute and shook her head, then gave a sad smile. "I was scared that I had lost my best friend forever."

"Aw, CJ you knew he wouldn't forget about you. Come on." Bo couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"I know it sounds silly, Bo, but we counted on each other a lot, even back then. When Bill got the standard "I made it here and everything is fine" letter that the recruits have to write home, he showed it to me. We both laughed. Bill told me that was word for word the same letter that he had been made to write when he had joined up."

"When Matt got the opportunity to call home, he told his dad that he was headed to Fort Huachuca in Arizona. That's where the Intelligence training is done."

"He was the cream of the crop, then." Sheila nodded. "You don't get there without being extremely good at everything in basic – and I mean everything." She looked at CJ.

"Since he was used to playing competitive sports, the physical part of basic was pretty much a walk in the park for him…not that he didn't get tired, but he knew he could get through it after so much training and conditioning for football and baseball – eighteen years' worth. So all he really had to concentrate on were the other skills, which made life a lot easier for him. Bill and I went to his graduation from basic and got to spend the afternoon and night with him, but he had to fly out the next day for Arizona. With all of the problems going on at that time, we didn't get to see him again until he graduated about eighteen weeks later, and then he was on his way to Special Forces Training. He was still Matt, but there was a difference in him, even then. We only got to spend a day and a night with him because they were in a hurry to get his training finished. I didn't know it until after he left and Bill told me, but his training wasn't normal…or at least what they tell the public. When Bill was in, the Army was looking for warm bodies on the ground more than anything else. But he knew of some people that had been groomed from the first day of basic to do what Matt was doing." She looked around to make sure that Roy wasn't coming outside. "Roy was in the Navy, but he was the same as Matt; from day one, they were grooming him for the CIA…and that's exactly what they wanted Matt for…and the fact that Roy was there was just another bonus for them. They figured that Matt would follow in his footsteps."

"But that didn't happen." Sheila knew a little bit about what CJ was referring to: the CIA was always recruiting from the armed forces.

"No. But they tried, that's for sure. When Matt got through with the rest of his training he finally got leave…but only for a week. Bill flew me in from school so that we could spend some time together. He was convinced even then that we should get married."

"And he was right on target, too." Lamar grinned.

"When Matt stepped off of the plane we had a big surprise: he was a sergeant. He hadn't told either one of us, but then he wasn't writing much either. We just _thought_ there was a change in him the last time we saw him. When we spotted him coming through the terminal, it was like there was…I don't know…a wall, a force-field around him. It's hard to explain. He was in plain sight but it was like he was completely invisible to anyone but us. That sounds crazy…"

"But it's true." Roy had slipped out of the house and heard the last part of CJ's story. He walked over and sat down with them, slipping an arm around her shoulders. "That was part of his training. It's hard to explain, but a lot of it has to do with mindset." No one said a word. Bo and Lamar had worked at Bill's ranch when Matt was a teenager and remembered how wild he was back then. He had been a good kid, but always had a wild streak. They looked at each other.

"I saw part of Matt's training. He had no idea I was there. Of course I'm not supposed to talk about it but I'm old and maybe I'm forgetful. He was good…no, he was better than good. He was the best – the one that the CIA wanted in the fold. See, Matt graduated first in every aspect of every level of his training – without fail. He had all the top scores." He rubbed CJ's shoulder and pulled her closer. "All he needed at that point was experience – and he got plenty of that in Iraq…and then Afghanistan. Mission after mission after mission. Each one got more involved and more secretive. And Bill had a feeling about what was going on…and he didn't like it one bit."

"Matt was injured so many times…like his very first mission." He felt CJ begin to shake and rubbed her shoulders. "He and his team were sent in to try to talk to one of the war lords. Matt didn't speak Arabic, but there was an interpreter with him. When they first arrived there, Matt balked at going into the area, a sort of a plaza with only one way in and out – but he had his orders. They went in and talked to the man with no problem and received his word that he would cooperate with them by giving them information that they needed. Matt told his commanding officer later that he had a feeling that the war lord was lying through his teeth and he was right. As they were leaving the area they were attacked. There were seven men in the squad; one by one, they were picked off. Matt was shot four times: once in the left shoulder, twice in the left side, and once in the right thigh. He was stabbed seven times, his left forearm was broken and he had two broken ribs. They came at the squad with everything from rifles to knives to table legs."

"How do you know all of this?" Lamar couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Because I was working as an analyst at the time when the footage was sent to my section. All of the men in the squad were wearing helmet cams. It was our job to link all the footage up and find out what really happened. Because by the time it was over, every one of the men with Matt was dead – and he wasn't far from it." There was shocked silence around the table.

"I heard his voice when they first started the footage…and I've got to tell you I damn near passed out…it was that bad. By the time Matt's backup got there, he was the only one left standing and was protecting the bodies of the others…the insurgents would, and still do, absolutely mutilate the bodies and he wasn't going to let that happen to his men. When backup got there, he was alive and on his feet and there was one other man alive. The insurgents backed off and the men were quickly loaded onto a truck. They said as soon as Matt's butt hit the bed of the truck he was out…and they all thought he was dead until they got back to the compound and started to unload the bodies and he came to and started trying to move." Sheila was in tears as was CJ. "He ended up stateside at Walter Reed…for almost three months."

"But I don't understand what that's got to do with what happened in Florida." Bo leaned forward with his arms on the table.

"Remember I told you about the footage?" Roy looked across at the ranch hand who nodded. "Matt killed almost one hundred insurgents that day – about thirty with his rifle, over fifty with his knife and whatever else he could get his hands on…," he paused, "…and fifteen with his bare hands – by snapping their necks." There was complete silence. Roy started to tear up a little bit.

"Uncle Roy, you shouldn't be talking about this…or even thinking about it..." CJ reached for his hand.

"No, you all need to know so you can understand why he's acting like he is right now." Roy calmed down. "When you take a life it changes you. But when you take that many lives at once – and you witnessed what he did…it's a lot like what the forces at D-day dealt with. That's about as close as I can get to make you understand." He paused for a minute, looking up to see if Matt was back yet. When he saw that he wasn't, Roy continued. "I got to go see him when he was recovering. It was tough, not just seeing him in so much pain, but remembering the little boy he used to be, always wanting piggyback rides when I came to Bill's house…" He teared up again. "That boy was gone…and I was afraid we would never get him back at all."

Bo and Lamar looked at each other. The Matt they had always known had been a kind-hearted practical joker who loved to make people laugh. They couldn't imagine that he had been through all of that.

"But he recovered and went on back to doing what he did best: investigate and gather intelligence. He was sent to OCS school to become an officer, and of course like everything else, he graduated first in his class and that's when he got his Lieutenant's bars. By his last year in, Matt was a captain and he and Will were in the same unit. They were pinned down in the rubble of a building trying to take cover when it was hit by several rounds of RPG's. Part of a wall collapsed on Matt and he was knocked out. When he came to Will was gone and the three other members of their team were dead. He blamed himself for Will being taken prisoner."

CJ took up the story. "When Matt was discharged, he started drinking on the plane to Germany, then on the plane to New York, and spent a couple of hours at a bar in the airport during a layover. He passed out on the flight to Houston and came to just a few minutes before it landed. He kept drinking at the party Bill threw for him and we had a fight about it." She wiped at a tear. "That night when he left…" She shook her head. "Anyway, he was gone for a month – drunk. When he came home Bill…well, let's just say that between the two of us we got him sobered up. He spent a month out on one of the toughest oil platforms in the Gulf drying out. When he came back he was okay for the most part, but there were times when the memories would almost overwhelm him. He hasn't done anything like that since…exactly…but we need to keep an eye on him."

**CHAPTER 1**

_**Present day…**_

CJ watched as he rode through the pasture on the Buckskin stallion Jasper, coming back from moving the herd to another area of the ranch nestled in the Santa Monica Mountains. Though not anywhere near as big as the ranch in Houston, Texas, Matt had maintained a herd over the years since he had first bought the property. Compared to the Texas herd it was insignificant – except to Matt who often rode through on horseback just to get out and have time to think by himself. She watched as the man that she had known as a boy of ten on up – now thirty five years old – seemed to be one with the horse that he had trained just a short time ago. Time with the horses and cows was therapy for him - oftentimes much needed - to help him recuperate mentally from all of the pain, misery, and downright evil that he dealt with on an almost daily basis. Each move he made - from saddling the horse to herding and working the herd - had been learned from a young age, the repetition and routine comforting to a mind that was often stretched to its limits with not only the day-to-day of family life, but his jobs as private investigator, adviser to the LAPD and the Fire Marshal, as well as to the FBI, ATF, and DEA and most recently as a Detective Sergeant with the Harris County Sheriff's Department. The work he did with computer guru Derwin Dunlap, while not putting him in danger, still took a toll on his energy. CJ was often asked by those around them how he found time to do all that he did and she could honestly answer that she had no idea – but he did.

As he reached the near end of the pasture that bordered the barn, the cowboy leaned down and opened the gate, quietly talking to the group of horses gathered there, each one seeking attention from the man that they belonged to and who cared for them. In the center of the throng was Cricket - the Red Sorrel that had been Matt's first baby. CJ smiled as she watched the mare rub her head on both the cowboy and the stallion on which he rode. Jasper was Cricket's mate and the pair was expecting a foal in the early fall. Not one to be denied, the mare got the attention she was seeking and followed beside the pair as they neared the barn, the rest of the horses in the pasture following in their wake. He disappeared from her view for a moment as he walked through the barn with the stallion but reappeared and began removing the saddle, blanket, and bridle that the horse had been wearing. After they were put away, he brushed him down and then walked back out to the pasture, the horse following behind him like a dog just as Cricket did. After closing the gate and giving the horses another round of pats and rubs, he turned and headed up to the house, swatting with the white straw cowboy hat at his pant legs to dislodge the dust he had acquired while moving the cattle, a cloud billowing up around his tall frame. At 6'3" he could be a criminal's worst nightmare; to one year old Catherine Rose Houston he was Daddy. As he looked up and spotted CJ on the patio, a large smile covered his face. "Been spying on me, Lil Mama?"

"Nope – just watching." She tilted her head back as he kissed her, his hand rubbing her belly that held the twin boys they were expecting. "Giorgio will be here in about forty five minutes."

"Yeah…" He sat down at the table for a minute, his gaze drifting first down to the horses in the pasture and then the hills beyond them that eventually ended in the Pacific Ocean.

"Hon…it's your business…but are you sure you want to do the interview?" She reached over putting her hand on top of his. He held onto it as he nodded.

"Yeah. I think it's time." Looking up into her hazel eyes he saw the worry. "I'm okay, Babe."

"As long as you're sure."

"I am." He stood up. "Besides, I've been putting Giorgio off for years now." Giving her a smile he leaned over and kissed her again. "Gonna go hit the shower." He went on in through the kitchen and the strangely quiet house. Their nanny, Sheila Wentworth, had taken Catey Rose on a picnic along with the Houstons' adopted teenage son Tomás to keep them out from under foot. Catey's constant companion and guardian – Tilly, the half Blue Heeler/ half Husky – was with them as well.

Stripping out of his clothes, Matt thought about the reason for the interview and the reasons why it had taken him so long to agree to do it. It had been almost ten years. Ten years used to seem like a long time to him, but these days it was a mere drop in the bucket. As he climbed in under the steaming hot water and allowed it to flow over him, he thought back to a time that he had tried to forget for so long. He had finally reached a point where he felt like he could talk about what had happened all those years ago, felt like he had made peace with it and the subsequent events that had nearly cost him not only his own life, but that of ranch hand Bo Harper as well as CJ.

When he emerged from the shower he caught sight of himself, the tattoo on his chest reflecting in the mirror. A lot had changed in ten years; he had changed dramatically, more so in the last four years than he had ever thought possible. Those changes were for the better, no doubt. He went on into the bedroom and began pulling out fresh clothes - a pair of jeans, a white button down collar shirt, and his favorite pair of cowboy boots. As he began to slide on the boots he stopped and looked at them. His dad had given him the boots when he was a sophomore in college and from that day on they were his favorite. He missed Bill Houston. The man who had adopted him when he was just a baby had passed away a few years before; some days the ache was nearly overwhelming but just when he thought he couldn't stand the loss he would hear Bill's voice in the back of his head, always calm, always reassuring, just like it had been when he was alive...well, with the exception of a short period of time when they hadn't seen eye to eye.

Entering the kitchen he found CJ double-checking her preparations for Giorgio Stavros and his crew that would be filming the interview. "Need some help?"

"Nope – I think that's it." She turned and gave him a smile as she surveyed him from head to toe. "I knew you were going to wear those boots."

"They're lucky – what can I say?" He took her by the hand and went back out on the patio sitting down with her on the swing that he had built. It wasn't long until his phone rang and Lamar let him know that he had just let Stavros and his crew through the security gate at the end of the driveway. After thanking his long-time ranch hand he hung up. As he squeezed CJ's hand once again, he looked back toward the mountains, a faint touch of unease passing over his features.

"Hon, you could always tell him you changed your mind." CJ's voice was very soft, almost inaudible.

"No…I told him I would do it." Always a man of his word, Houston took a deep breath and let it out slowly before looking up to see the van that was approaching. "Don't reckon they'll slather me with makeup, do ya?" Looking up into her eyes, his own twinkling with humor, he gave her the smile that always made her heart flutter. For twenty five years he had had that effect on her and remained completely oblivious to the fact.

"Nah…but if they do I'm gonna get a picture and send it to Vince and Michael." The lawyer-turned-PI laughed – a sound that Matt never grew tired of and treasured even more than ever before.

"I might have to sue you."

"Doubt it – your lawyer won't take the case." She stuck her tongue out at him before they both stood up and walked over to welcome the guests.

A man of about fifty with dark hair graying at the temples and olive-colored skin that gave away his Greek heritage, emerged from the front seat of the van, the smile that lit his face nearly contagious. "Houston, how are you? And CJ – you're the picture of beauty."

"Only if you find whales attractive." The lawyer laughed as she rubbed her baby bump.

"Nonsense – a woman with child is always the most beautiful." Giorgio shook hands with both. "So Houston…" He looked around the ranch. "Where is the lovely little girl you told me about?"

"She's on a picnic." Matt pulled out his phone and handed it over to the reporter. "That's her playmate Tilly and our adopted son Tomás."

"You really have settled down. You two make beautiful babies together." He studied the picture and looked at the couple. "She looks much like her father but has her mother's eyes. A beautiful child, indeed." Turning to his right he introduced a woman of about Matt's age with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes. "Allow me to introduce Kristen MacDonald, my producer. And these two here are Jon Brigham and Luis Lopez, our sound engineer and camera man."

"Nice to meet you." Matt and CJ shook hands with the three.

"We have been blessed with beautiful weather today." Stavros looked around once again. "It would be a shame to waste. What do you think about filming out here?" He looked to the crew who all three nodded their agreement. "Is that acceptable to you, my friend?"

"That's fine – whatever you want."

"Perfect. We'll let them get things arranged as they need and maybe we can talk a little bit." He followed as Matt led the way over to the swing. Made from oak, it was about ten feet long and cushioned with denim material. "This must be a Texas-sized swing."

"You could say that. There are two more of them at the ranch in Houston." The three sat down, Matt with his arm around CJ's shoulders.

"Very nice. I must say I was surprised when you agreed to the interview, Houston. After all the times I've asked over the years and you've turned me down each and every time; I thought that you would surely say no once again. But I'm very pleased that you did not."

"It felt like the time was right." He rubbed his wife's arm as she took his right hand in hers.

"I'm glad. People really have no idea of the horrendous acts that Emil Castanos perpetrated; they need to know."

"I've seen reports about him on the internet but they don't know how bad it really was." Matt's voice was quiet.

"But you and I know the truth. Now, I intend to make this as easy as possible. I'll ask a few questions to get you started but this will be your story, my friend." He saw the cowboy look nervously at the cameras that were being set up. "Ignore the cameras: pretend that it is just you and myself talking. Pay them no mind."

"Easy for you to say." Matt chuckled. "So how do you like working for an American network?"

"Oh, what can I say? America is a land of freedom, of many opportunities; but with those comes great responsibility. Sadly enough not every reporter understands that."

"Sounds like he's seen Tamara Placer." CJ gave Matt's hand a squeeze.

"Unfortunately I have – a terrible reporter more concerned with appearances than telling the truth." The visitor gave a big laugh. "Many times I have seen you giving her…what is the expression? Down the road?"

"More like giving her hell." CJ snickered and all three shared a laugh.

"You two can see right through her act. It is a pity and a shame that more viewers cannot. I fear she is better suited for a tabloid than a true news outlet."

"We call her the Piranha." Matt shook his head.

"A true observation: she feeds on the disturbances that she causes."

"Giorgio – we're almost ready. Jon needs to hook up a mic for Mr. Houston and we'll see how he'll look under the lights." Kristen MacDonald held up a microphone. "We need to run the wire up the back of your shirt and clip this on your belt."

"Alright." He untucked the shirt and the sound engineer quickly set the microphone up and after a quick test to make sure all was working, the producer turned to Stavros.

"Okay Giorgio – we're ready if you two are."

"My friend?" He looked to Houston.

"Ready as I'll ever be…"

"We checked the light levels while you were on the swing, Mr. Houston, and they're just fine if that's where you would be most comfortable." Luis the camera man motioned to where he had been sitting previously.

"Sure – but just call me Houston, would ya?"

"Yes sir."

"Have a seat my friend while Kristen tries to make an old man look good one more time."

"Don't be so dramatic, Giorgio. You could give some of these Hollywood hunks a run for their money." She gave CJ a wink as she dabbed a bit of makeup on his nose. "Perfect as always. I love working with him – absolutely no ego." Turning back to the reporter she straightened his tie. "Have a seat here and Luis will move the cameras into position." She saw the question in Matt's eyes before he even asked. "Luis can control both cameras from the computer there. Once we get them into position we're all set. It's less distracting that way."

CJ took a seat in one of the patio chairs back behind the film crew. "You know Mama always said you should have been a movie star." She gave Matt a wink and a dazzling smile, knowing that he was nervous no matter how calm he tried to appear.

"The next Clark Gable, hey?" Stavros feigned a serious expression. "But the beard would have to go."

"Nope. I'm not cut out to be a movie star, but CJ now…she's a whole other story." He gave his wife a big smile.

"We're ready on the sound." Jon nodded at Kristen.

"Okay Maestro – whenever you're ready."


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

"It all started with a phone call from a friend of mine from college - Danny Michaelson. He was working for the United Nations in Vienna – part of their Office for Outer Space Affairs. I had been in the city on business for my dad's oil company and we had gotten together for dinner." Matt paused. "His wife Tracy was a very kind and very beautiful lady. Two days after I got back home to Texas he called me – said that Tracy was missing. She had been going to meet some friends for lunch and never arrived. There was no sign of her anywhere."

Stavros knew the story by heart. "And why did he call you?"

"During our visit I had told him that I had just gotten my private investigator's license." Smiling sadly, Matt thought back to that time. "He and Tracy both teased me; called me the next Sam Spade. But I told him if he ever needed anything to just call. He did."

"What did you do?"

"I flew back to Vienna but by the time my flight landed…" He cleared his throat. "…they had found her. Or more accurately, what was left of her. She had been tortured before her death. The killer had grabbed her at some point as she was on the way to meet her friends. We never found out exactly where he got her but he did. He carved her up so badly they had to identify her by dental records. She was found in pieces in a field just outside of the city."

"What about the police?"

Shaking his head he responded. "They had very little to work with. There were no fingerprints, no DNA – nothing to point to a suspect – not even a crime scene. There wasn't much they could do; there wasn't much anyone could do at that point. My friend was devastated by the news. He just couldn't accept the fact that she was gone." Pausing for a few seconds he spoke again. "Danny committed suicide three days later."

"But you didn't give up. What happened next?"

"A few days later he struck again, this time in Corfu – which is where I met you."

_**December 14, 2005**_

"Will you listen to me, please? This maniac has killed before – in Vienna. Don't you people ever watch the news?" Matt was handcuffed and sitting in an interrogation room in the Municipal Police Department of the City of Corfu.

"Mr. Houston, you seem to have conveniently been in both places that the "maniac" has struck. I find that to be highly irregular."

"I came to _you_ – to help. Why can't you get that through your head?"

"Often times a guilty person tries to insert himself into the midst of an investigation. We have seen it before." The sergeant continued to stare at the American. "Now, tell us all about how you kidnapped and killed Eirini Skouzas."

"How many times do I have to tell you? I DIDN'T DO IT! DAMN!" The newly licensed private investigator stood suddenly, knocking the metal chair over behind him and was immediately grabbed by the two guards in the room who promptly slammed him into the wall, knocking the breath out of him for a few seconds. It was then that he wrapped his cuffed hands around the neck of the taller of the two men trying to hold him and found himself with two pistols pointing at his head as he held the officer in front of him as a shield, slowly increasing the pressure on his neck. The sounds of the argument and struggle had reached the rest of the station and a slew of guards poured into the room accompanied by a man of about forty who watched as the American that he had heard about continued to hold the guard hostage.

"Gentlemen, please." The reporter moved in, gently removing the guards from in front of him. "Has anyone attempted to verify Mr. Houston's whereabouts at the times in question?" He looked at the sergeant.

"Not as of yet, no." Looking somewhat embarrassed the officer looked at the American who had shown up six hours ago, claimed that the murder was committed by the same man that had butchered an American woman in Vienna, and was promptly taken into custody as a suspect.

"Would it not seem logical to ascertain his whereabouts before causing an international incident, Sergeant? It would not be good publicity for Corfu – we do appreciate the tourists' money here, no?"

Houston let go of the guard who promptly turned and punched him in the mouth, then stood in shock as the American didn't budge in the least, but stood staring at him with dark and glittering eyes. He immediately stepped away, rubbing at his throat where the cuffs had begun to dig in.

"Until such time as we can validate your location, Mr. Houston, you will remain in custody…and will also be facing additional charges." The sergeant was somewhat surprised when the young man didn't reply but shifted the steely glare to him. A cold feeling of fear washed over him and he instructed four guards to place the man in a cell.

"If I may, Sergeant…" Stavros gave him a well-practiced smile. "…would you allow me to conduct an interview with this man?" He put a conspiratorial arm across the officer's shoulders and lowered his voice. "Who knows? He may just slip up and admit something to me, since I am not an officer of the law."

"Very well…but he will be restrained hand and foot. If he so much as acts like he is going to attack he will be shot dead. Is that understood?" He looked at Matt once again getting chills as he gave only a slight nod of his head. Waiting until the guards had chained his hands and feet to the wall, the sergeant walked out closing the door behind him.

"Thank you." Houston spoke quietly.

"You are very welcome. If I may introduce myself: Giorgio Stavros. I am a reporter with the local newspaper. And you – you are a very interesting man." He sat down in the chair previously occupied by the sergeant. Giving the foreigner a smile he spoke again. "I – unlike our always conscientious police force…" Rolling his eyes he almost saw the faint glimmer of a smile on the man's face. "…have done some research on you. You come from a very wealthy family. What is the term? "Oil baron"?" There was no reply but he could see the young man starting to relax. "You were a standout in sports as a youth – playing American football and baseball, no?" This time there was a nod. "You know, I have never understood why your countrymen call it football; it actually has a very limited amount of exposure to the players' feet." That got a smile from the prisoner.

"Never understood that myself."

"Then it appears we have something in common." Stavros leaned back in the chair. "I also understand that you were highly recruited by professional teams in both sports but turned your back on a lucrative career as an athlete and instead went on to serve your country most honorably. You are the only Medal of Honor winner that I have ever met." The reporter immediately noticed that Houston's features tightened back up and he didn't answer. "But what is past is past, no? We must look to the future."

"That isn't looking real bright right now."

"Let us assess the situation at hand. When the officers call to verify your story, they will not be able to hold you as a murderer."

"No, but I'm pretty sure they want to give me a little time for attacking that guard." Houston leaned forward putting his head in his hands and rubbing his temples.

"I _might_ be able to help you with that but first you must promise not to attack any other officers." There was a hint of laughter in the voice and Matt looked up at the man he had known only a few minutes and his gut instincts were telling him to trust him. He nodded. "Very well then; as I'm sure you know, nothing is free in life. It will cost you."

Matt gave him a stare. "What?"

"I believe you. You were not present when Mrs. Michaelson was kidnapped and murdered. You were at your home in Texas. I have already called and verified the facts."

"You said it was gonna cost me?"

"I did. This could be the story of a lifetime, Mr. Houston. Have you looked around our little island paradise? Other than a few corrupt politicians, various celebrity weddings, public scandals…" He shrugged. "There really is very little here to report, certainly not the kind of stories that I dreamed of when I was a student at university. If you would let me cover this exclusively I would be most willing to help you."

Quietly the younger man considered his options. The thought of jail was not a pleasant one and Stavros could well be of help to him. "Think you can get them to drop the charges?"

"Oh, I believe I may hold a certain…what is the phrase: "card up my sleeve"? It is hard to remember – you Americans have many such phrases."

"Well, I don't speak the language here and if we're going to try to find out what really happened I'll definitely need an interpreter; plus, I can't very well tell you that you can't write something, now can I?"

"So we have struck a bargain. Good." He stood and walked over to the man who - just minutes before had literally held the life of one of the guards in his hands – and offered his hand to seal the deal.

"Okay." They shook.

"Wonderful, now let's get to work while they make phone calls. What if anything do you know about the murderer?" He pulled the chair over next to the prisoner and opened his notebook.

"Like I said - not much. He took Tracy somewhere between their home and the hotel where she was meeting some friends for lunch. We have no idea where he…" Houston stopped, the sight of what had been left of his friend's wife overwhelming him. Thoughts of some of the things he had seen in Iraq and Afghanistan were brought back to his mind and he drifted away for a minute, the reporter watching him. Closing his eyes for a minute, the younger man shook his head. "He uh…he dismembered her. Actually he skinned her. And…" He felt his stomach lurch.

Stavros nodded. "I have read some of the reports from the news services. A further description is not necessary." Matt nodded again, rubbing the back of his neck. "So when you heard of the murder of Miss Skouzas you immediately flew here. Then what?"

"I came straight here to let them know that it was the same man…had to be." He looked back up at the reporter. "Not much of an investigator am I?"

"That is false my new friend. I read about you, remember? One does not work for the US Army Intelligence Division without being a _very_ good investigator. We simply need to do some asking around. Surely someone has seen something that would be of use to us."

Two hours later after appearing before a judge and paying a hefty fine, Houston was released but told not to get into any other scrapes or he would be locked up for a very long time to come. As they walked out into the fresh air he breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay, Mr. Stavros. Are you ready to get to work?" He adjusted the travel bag on his shoulder.

"I am – and please call me Giorgio. Mr. Stavros was my father."

"As long as you call me Houston."

"Settled. Now, let us find some refreshments and put a plan together."

After going to a local restaurant and being seated outside on the patio, the reporter ordered a bottle of wine but Matt declined, instead requesting a soft drink. Looking around, the younger man commented to his companion. "This is a beautiful place. Until now I hadn't really noticed."

"You've been much occupied with other matters so I believe as a local I can forgive you for the oversight." He gave a laugh and a smile crept across the American's face. "Let us enjoy a good meal and then take up the job that we have given ourselves." When the meal came, Stavros began asking Matt questions about the US and what it was like, completely putting the current problems to rest – at least for a little while.

Over coffee, the two began talking about their search for the killer. "I would like to be able to speak to Miss Skouzas' family if possible. They might be able to tell us where she was going, who she hung out with, and what her usual routine was." The private investigator set the empty cup down.

"I have the address of her parents. Shall we?" Giorgio stood as did Matt and the two got into the reporter's car and went west toward the center of the island, the roads rolling through some of the most beautiful countryside that the American had ever seen, dotted with vineyards and winter crops. The clouds began to build as they neared the home of the Skouzas family and large drops began to fall as they exited the car and went to the house. The door was opened by a man of about forty, with dark hair and eyes that were rimmed with red. In his native tongue, Stavros introduced himself and Houston, telling the father of the victim that they were working to find the murderer.

As Matt stood listening to the exchange, he looked around the property and thought about the ranch back in Texas…and CJ, his attention being brought back to his present location by a tug on his sleeve as he and the reporter were invited inside. A woman was standing with a feather duster in one hand and a photograph of Eirini in the other, a look of shock and sadness on her face. The American could see a resemblance in the two faces. She looked up as her husband spoke to her, and immediately nodded, ushering them into a large room filled with sofas and chairs, the far end taken up almost entirely by a fireplace and on one wall a rather large television. The visitors were offered seats, and as the woman spoke to Stavros Matt knew without being able to speak Greek that she was offering them a drink. _"Boró̱ na sas prosféro̱ lígo krasí í̱ kafé íso̱s?"_

Remembering how Houston had reacted to the offer of wine with their lunch, the reporter agreed to coffee, noticing out of the corner of his eye that the private investigator appeared to breathe a sigh of relief. He and the father, who introduced himself to Matt as Nikolas Skouzas, now shook hands and the young man introduced himself. As Stavros began asking the questions that he and the American had discussed, the woman came back with a tray filled with cups, a pot of coffee, and what looked like something akin to donut holes. She began pouring the coffee with shaky hands; Matt stood up and gently took the pot from her, motioning for her to have a seat, and then filled the cups. As Skouzas began telling the reporter about their youngest daughter, his wife passed the plate of pastries to the young man. _"Loukoumades?" _He took one and thanked her, listening as Stavros translated for him.

"He says that Eirini was their youngest daughter, just nineteen years old. She was working as a delivery person for a florist in the city to earn money for acting lessons. Her ambition was to go to Hollywood someday. Eirini had worked for only two weeks when she was abducted."

"What about friends?"

"She had two who lived in town. I have their names and address – they lived in a small flat together."

"What about a boyfriend?"

Stavros turned back to the parents and asked the question, then back to Matt. "Her boyfriend is out on a fishing vessel – he's been gone for about two weeks."

"Do they know what her schedule was like?" Once again he waited and could tell that they didn't know much except for when she left for work and when she usually arrived home.

"Did she mention any problems?" The answer didn't need a translation as Nikolas shook his head. Matt took a drink of the coffee and thought the situation over. "Did you get the name of the florist?"

"Yes, it is written down." Stavros took a drink and watched as the young man's mind worked on the situation.

"Would you tell them thank you – and that I'm very sorry. But that I promise I will catch the man who did this." He watched the couple's expressions; the father nodded, thanking him and the mother came to him and gave him a hug, her tears falling on his shoulder as he patted her back.

They left and went back to the city, stopping first at the florist where they were assured that Eirini hadn't spoken of any problems. Their next stop was the apartment of the two friends who said that she had been extremely happy both with her job and her life. Although she hadn't yet told her parents, Eirini and her boyfriend had decided to get married in the spring. Both vouched for the fact that he had been at sea for two weeks. After thanking both girls, they went back down to the street. "We have a real mystery on our hands." Stavros put the key in the ignition. "Do you have a hotel?"

"No…I didn't quite make it that far this morning."

"Would you accept the hospitality of my home? That way we can continue to talk over the problem…and most hopefully keep the police at bay." The last was said with a smile.

"I'd appreciate it."

"Very well then." The reporter pointed out places of interest on the drive to his apartment and in a short time they were climbing the steps to the third floor of an apartment building that seemed like a Mexican villa to the young man from Texas. As they sat on the sheltered balcony after a dinner of sandwiches and orange juice, Matt looked out over the large swimming pool and watched as the light rain that was coming down dimpled the surface of the water. He thought back to all the times that he and CJ had shared as kids out on the river that flowed behind their homes. A dull ache began to fill his chest and he realized just how much he missed her. A sudden downpour and shift in the wind jerked him from his reverie and the two entered the apartment, Matt sitting on the couch as Giorgio made a copy of his notes in English for the visitor. The rain's constant pattering and the ticking of a clock along with the scratch of the reporter's pen were the only sounds until Stavros was almost finished with the translation and heard a buzzing noise, looking up to see his guest had fallen asleep, a troubled look on his face. Very quietly he spoke. "It has been a long and troubling day, my friend. Sleep well." He put a blanket over the man and turned out the light, retiring to his bedroom.

At 2:00AM he was awakened from a sound sleep by a scream that was followed by the word "NO!" Rushing into the living room where Houston was in the throes of a nightmare and as he attempted to wake him, the older man found himself in a strangle hold. "My friend, it is Giorgio – remember? Please let me go."

Houston immediately released him, the panicked look on his face turning to one of embarrassment and guilt. "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry." The young man jumped to his feet and headed for the door.

"Stop." Stavros followed him. "You need to come back and rest. It is okay." Taking him by the shoulders he guided Matt back to the couch and urged him to sit where he immediately put his head in his hands, his eyes tightly closed, trying to shut out the memories that would rarely let him sleep for more than three hours at a time. "You have been through much trauma during your service." His comment went unanswered. "That is what is haunting you, no?"

"I'm so sorry." Matt looked up, a pitiful expression on his face.

"I understand more than you think, Houston." Stavros went to the refrigerator and poured two glasses of water, returning to the living room and sitting next to his guest on the sofa. "Drink." With shaking hands, Matt took the glass and downed about a third of it before stopping himself. The reporter gave a soft chuckle. "It is hard to break habits, no? Before I went into Iraq we were given the "Hydrate, Hydrate, Hydrate" speech."

"You were there?" The surprise made the older man laugh.

"I was – but not when you were. You were, let us see: about twelve years old at the time – 1991 – am I right?" He watched as the American nodded and took another drink and sat back. "But I was not there as a soldier – I was a reporter fresh from university, full of ideas of bringing the truth to my countrymen and to the world."

Matt looked down at the glass. "Sometimes the truth isn't worth reporting."

"You are very right my friend. There was much sadness in that country before the invasion ever began. The war just enhanced the sufferings of the people." Nodding, Houston drank down more of the cold water. "I had a few problems myself when I came back home. Like I said before – I understand more than you think I do. But I must admit you most likely saw even more tragedy than I; you were a soldier."

"You know what got to me the worst?" Matt couldn't believe he was opening up to a person that he had known for less than twenty four hours. "The women and kids. They just…" He shook his head. "We used to try to keep candy on us, not just for ourselves…" He gave a faint smile as he stared into the glass, his mind leaving the apartment and traveling to the land of sand, dirt, and despair. "…but we tried to make the kids understand we were there for them, too, you know? Not just there to take out the bad guys. We wanted to help _them_, too. There was this one kid in particular that I remember…a scrawny little guy about seven years old. The first time I saw him some older kids were beating the snot out of him. My buddy and I ran 'em off and cleaned up his cuts. He was so scared of us he was shaking like a leaf. When we had him patched up as good as we could I gave him a little bag of candy. You could see in his eyes that he just couldn't believe that we were actually nice. We shook hands with him and then went on with our work." Tears filled his eyes again as he looked into the glass. "Three days later we were coming back through on our way back to base. I was kinda keeping an eye out for him – wanted to be sure he was okay. But he wasn't." He closed his eyes tightly against the memory. "His uncle had seen him take the candy and shake our hands…and killed him right after we left. His mother told our interpreter." Wiping his eyes his voice was shaking. "She begged us not to give her other son any candy or he would be killed, too."

"And you have never told anyone else about that, have you?"

"No."

"Thank you for trusting me. I am honored."

"I'm sorry…about before." Matt shook his head. "I should have known better than to stay here."

"Better here than in a hotel. If the police had been called you would be back in the…what is that phrase that is used in your Western movies? "In the hoosegow." Yes, that is the one."

Houston gave a shaky laugh. "I apologize for all of our phrases that give you so much trouble."

"Nonsense. That is part of what I love about the United States – the freedom of expression…and boy do you people know how to express yourselves." Both had a good chuckle then.

"Thank you. I owe you…a lot."

"And you will pay for it; all in due time, remember? I have a story to tell the world."

_**Present Day**_

The production crew, although doing their jobs, was mesmerized by the story that was being told in front of them. None of them had really heard much about Castanos.

"So my second day on Corfu, you and I visited every single hotel within a twenty mile radius of the fountain where Eirini Skouzas had been found. And that's when we got our first clue. A nightshift hotel maid had seen a man with blood on his shirt going from the elevator to a suite on the third floor of the Divani Corfu Palace Hotel. She was working a double – otherwise we would have never found out what she had witnessed. We found the shirt stuck in the commode where he had tried to flush it and the maid was able to give us a partial description of him. Of course the police weren't too thrilled when we contacted them." He and Stavros both chuckled. "But when they finally listened to what we had to say they decided to let us off the hook. That night his description – a man with red hair going by the name of Sancho Rosales - was broadcast on television and in the papers. I breathed a sigh of relief – but it was short lived."

Giorgio took over the story for a moment. "That was when we found out that he had struck again – only that time in Rome."


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

_**December 15, 2005**_

As Houston and Stavros made their way through the airport in Athens, Greece headed for their connecting flight to Rome, neither spoke. Once they had checked in, gone through security, and boarded the plane Matt let out a disgusted sigh.

"You are still upset about the flight situation?" The reporter had taken off his jacket and tie as the flight attendant began going through the "In Case of Emergency" speech.

"Yeah." As the plane took off, Matt looked down at the farmland on the western side of the runway, once again thinking about his home in Texas…and CJ. He heard his companion say something. "Huh?"

"I said that I hope the police in Rome are friendlier." Giorgio gave the younger man a smile and both chuckled.

"Nothing against your country – but I'm glad to be out of there. Maybe one day I can visit it again without all the distractions. It's a beautiful place. I bet CJ would love it."

"CJ?"

"Yeah, my friend…my best friend." Matt looked back out the window. "I need to call her."

"Her? Aha! Best friend, you say…but from the tone of your voice and the look on your face there is more to the relationship than friendship."

"No." The young PI sighed again.

"Maybe not now – but there will be, my young friend. In time; all good things happen in their own time."

"It isn't like that, Giorgio."

"Don't worry – it will be." The older man reclined his seat, smiling at the younger man's denial and Matt just shook his head and stared out the window as the jet banked toward the northwest slightly and began the almost two hour flight to Rome. His mind drifted back to CJ and he wondered how she was doing. Two weeks after passing her Bar exam she had started work at Houston Oil in the legal department. When Matt had first gotten back from his time out in the Gulf on El Toro Bravo she had told him all about the job so far, and although happy about finally working as a lawyer, she found the work in contracts easy but boring. Her ambition was to get in some courtroom experience. Smiling as he thought about some of the discussions they had shared over the years, Matt felt sorry for whoever the opposing council would be in her first case. He was firmly convinced that she could out-argue anyone in the world.

When the attendant passed through taking drink orders, he asked for coffee and quietly sat looking out the window as he sipped on the brew, thinking to himself that one of the first things he would do when he got back home would be to talk to his dad about buying a jet.

As the plane got ready for its landing at Rome's Fiumicino Airport he shook Stavros awake. Both men fastened their seatbelts. Standing in the airport waiting on their luggage, Matt heard his name being paged. Walking to the nearest counter, he answered and the worried voice of Bill Houston came through the receiver. "Matt – are you okay?"

"Yes sir. Sorry I haven't called. We've been trying to track down the man who killed Tracy."

"We?" Bill sat on the side of his bed stifling a yawn. It was 5:00AM and he had just received a call from one of the employees in the accounting department of Houston Oil. He had requested to be informed the next time Matt used his credit card and had found that he was on his way to Rome.

"Yes sir. I'm working with a reporter from Corfu – Giorgio Stavros. He, uh…well, he kinda helped me out of a tight spot there."

"Yes, I know – a $150,000 tight spot. That's why I wanted to talk to you. I understand that you're upset about your friend's wife, but you do realize that you work for Houston Oil don't you?"

"Yes sir. I'm sorry. I just felt like I owed it to Danny." He looked over as Stavros joined him holding both of their bags. "Look, I've really got to go. I'll call you later."

"Son, we need to have a talk when you get home…and be careful over there, you hear me?"

"Yes sir. Thank you…and would you tell CJ hi for me, please?"

"I will…but you need to tell her that yourself – in person. Don't forget what we talked about concerning her."

Matt blushed on the other end of the line. "Yes sir. Thanks. 'Bye." He hung up, taking the bag from his friend, and they walked toward the exit.

"I am going to make a…here we go with the phrases again…uh, shot in the dark? That was your father on the telephone."

"Yeah." Something in the younger man' voice told him that the call hadn't been completely pleasant. They hailed a cab and gave the driver instructions to take them to the nearest police precinct.

"So your father – I take it he was not entirely happy to hear of your trip?"

"No…" Matt looked down at his hands and then out the window. "I'm supposed to be back in Houston starting on a new project right now. Not to mention the fact that he's not too happy about my little fine in Corfu."

"Ahhh…" He thought for a moment. "I really must ask you a question. Why do you have a private investigator's license if you work for your family's oil company?"

"Well…" Matt thought back to his childhood and the torment he had suffered at the hands of kidnappers, and then decided that a partial truth was better than none at all. "I kind of liked investigating when I was in the Army. Thought I might try my hand at it back home."

"I see." Stavros watched his young friend as he looked back out the window, knowing that there surely had to be more to the answer. Considering the problems that the American had been dealing with he thought it better to let the subject go.

Once at the police station the pair found a sergeant who, after looking at their credentials and hearing the reason for their visit, escorted them to the _Polizia di Stato, _state police section of the station. After a few minutes of waiting, a very harried-looking man with a thin mustache and tired eyes motioned them into an office where the nameplate on the desk read _Tenente Fredo Sacco_. "English?"

"Yes sir." Matt nodded and thanked him as he directed them to two chairs all the while giving them a quizzical look. "I know this is going to sound insane but we think we're on the trail of the killer who just struck here last night."

"The sergeant informed me that you just arrived from Greece…" He stood and began walking around the small office, and gave Houston a stern look. "I also heard on the news that an American private investigator was held for questioning in the murder that took place on Corfu."

"Yes sir – that's me."

"And I understand that you were cleared…but that you attacked an officer." The last was said with a disapproving look.

"I did and very much regret that, sir. It…it won't happen again."

"We do not tolerate…" The man stopped and looked to the ceiling as he searched for the words, then gave Matt another stern look when he had found them. "We do not tolerate the Wild West cowboy, Signore Houston." He watched as the younger man nodded and the reporter tried to conceal a smile. "If we have that clear I would like to hear what you have to say about the case."

Matt began with the first attack in Vienna, then the attack in Corfu and the evidence that the two had found together with the help of the maid. "Sir, we want to catch this man just as badly as you. We would like to help."

Silence ensued as the man paced another minute and considered the offer. "I will agree with one stipulation: you must work alongside one of our detectives. There will be no running around scaring the citizens any further than they already are…and there will be no acts of violence tolerated. Is that understood?"

Both men answered. "Yes sir."

"Very well." He picked up the phone on his desk and placed a call that lasted only a couple of minutes, then hung up and sat on the front edge of the desk. "You will be taken to the scene of the crime and it is there that you will meet Detective Raoul Alesini. He has been apprised of our agreement and if you violate it in any way you will be taken to the United States Embassy and they will see that you are on a flight to America in short order."

"Thank you." Matt stood and held out a hand to the man, who after careful consideration shook it.

"Signore Houston, if you will step outside for a moment I would like to have a word with your companion."

Without a word the PI did as he was told and stood outside watching as the officers around him went about their jobs. Inside Sacco leaned against the desk. "You found my comment to the young man funny; I would like to know why."

"Tenente, I meant no disrespect. Mr. Houston is in fact a cowboy. He grew up on a ranch in the state of Texas and even participated in rodeos."

"No."

Nodding emphatically the reporter once again smiled. "You can look it up on the internet…I did."

"Keep an eye on him…we do not need any problems from an American…or a Greek."

"Yes sir. Thank you again." The pair shook hands and left the office. Sacco called over a young officer and instructed him to take the pair to the crime scene on the northern side of the city. Turning to Houston he asked a final question. "Is it true you were in the rodeo?"

"Uh…yes sir." He gave Stavros a questioning look. "I competed in bull riding, bronc riding, and roping events from the time I was fifteen until I was twenty two."

"Hmmm…interesting. Very well. Remember our conversation."

"Yes sir. Thank you."

Sacco watched as the pair followed the officer out of the station. "Cowboy…mph." Shaking his head and smiling he went back into the office and back to work.

Within minutes they were at a spot on the Tiber River that reminded Matt of his home in Texas – with the exception of the swarm of crime scene investigators and cops, all looking ready to be sick. They were taken to Detective Raoul Alesini. Although he seemed somewhat cautious, he greeted the two men and led them to the river bank. Giorgio had not witnessed the brutality of the killer up to that point and found himself standing in shock; on the ride over his companion had been trying to mentally brace himself for what he might once again see. One look at the reporter told him that the older man was also having a hard time comprehending the carnage in front of them. Both heard Alesini speaking although to Matt it sounded as if he was whispering from far away.

"The young lady was identified by her employment ID…he, uh…he didn't mangle her face…too badly for us to…" The thirty-something detective's voice trailed off. "We have contacted her family. Her husband is being interviewed at the present and her mother…" He paused. "Her mother suffered a massive heart attack and perished." Sadly shaking his head he continued. "Her name was Lorena Palladino, twenty three years of age. The husband says that she is two months pregnant."

"Son of a bitch." Matt wanted to close his eyes but found himself strangely unable to, and scoured the scene for anything that they might use to catch Sancho Rosales.

"Our technicians have recovered a couple of footprints. But as you can see…" He turned away. "There is little else to help us."

Stavros excused himself and wandered away toward the woods where he promptly vomited. Matt meantime was still scrutinizing the scene, determined that Rosales had to have left something more than a footprint behind. "Do you mind if I go toward the river?"

"No…just be cautious where you step." Watching the American intently, Alesini wondered once again why his boss had allowed two civilians – foreigners – access to the worst scene that he had any knowledge of; it was a first.

"Detective…" There was a touch of excitement in the young man's voice as he waved the cop over. Stavros was coming back to them and heard, increasing his pace as the American pointed down at the edge of the river.

_"Figlio di una cagna!"_ He called over the techs who were searching other areas. Down in the mud was what appeared to be a bloody knife.

Matt stepped back out of the way, his heart pounding as he watched the techs first document the find, then retrieve it and place it in a plastic bag. A hand on his shoulder caused him to look around and Stavros was nodding. "Job well done, my friend...well done."

"Please, Signore Houston – look again." The cop couldn't believe his eyes and watched as the stranger carefully walked the river bank, climbing down into the mud along the edge of the Tiber to continue to look for more evidence. An hour later he had covered the entire scene again but found nothing further.

Alesini had called in the find to his lieutenant, who after a brief string of exclamations gave him permission to let the American continue to investigate. "Just keep him under supervision."

Once they had exhausted the crime scene they went to the home of Luca and Lorena Palladino where the young man was sitting on the patio outside the apartment with his brother and two officers. After introducing the two foreigners, Alesini offered to translate any questions that the pair might have for the grieving husband who appeared to be in shock.

"Would you ask him if she was normally in that area?" Matt watched and listened as the detective gently asked the question, the answer being no. "Where was she supposed to be?" The answer was that she had been on her way to a class at a nearby university but had never arrived; she had been studying computers in an attempt to better her employment. "Did she walk there?" The answer was yes – although they owned a car they had been trying to save money and since the university was only a matter of blocks from her workplace she walked there and then Luca picked her up afterwards. He had waited in the usual meeting place for half an hour and began searching for her, finally calling the police. It had been an hour after sunrise when she was found by a worker cutting hay in the nearby field. The young man completely broke down and Matt thanked him, offering his condolences.

While Alesini talked to the two officers who were with the grieving husband, Stavros and Houston went back to the car. Leaning with his hands on the roof, Matt thought about what they knew, but there was so much that they didn't know. When the detective joined them they piled into the car. "What do you think now?"

"The husband didn't have a thing in the world to do with it." The cowboy stretched out his legs. "This guy – Rosales – seems to pick his victims at random with the exception that all three have been beautiful ladies. Married or single doesn't seem to be a factor. Two of the three have been taken after dark. We need to run a check with the hotels and see if a Sancho Rosales has been a guest…" Stopping for a minute another thought occurred to him. "…If that actually is his name." The thought that one of their few clues might not actually help them caused his stomach to drop.

Nodding his agreement, Alesini put the car in gear and went toward the precinct, all three men silent as they rode through the busy streets of Rome, one concentrating on the traffic and the other two completely absorbed by the details of the cases. As they waited at a traffic light Matt spoke. "This guy has got money." The other two looked at him. "Think about it – he's been in Vienna, Corfu, and now here. That doesn't come cheap. And he's obviously been flying. We need to see if we can get some cooperation from the airlines."

"All good points." Alesini continued on to the precinct and they met back up with Tenente Sacco who now listened with a bit more respect to the American as he passed along his thoughts.

"It will be done." He nodded to the detective who went out and began alerting the airlines and hotels. "Our criminalists are conducting tests on the evidence as we speak, Signore Houston."

The private investigator nodded and thought back to their findings in Corfu. "He stayed at a hotel that was within sixteen kilometers of the fountain where Miss Skouzas was found. The alert to the hotels is fine, but I would like to go talk to some of the employees – maids, bellmen, room service staff – they might have a better grip on who we're looking for than the managers; they actually come into contact with guests more often."

"You may…just remember our agreement."

"Yes sir." Matt stood and went to the door, but stopped and turned back to face the lieutenant. "Sir, what happened on Corfu…" The words were there but he didn't want the cop to think he was insane. "It isn't something that I'm proud of or that I intend to do again. I just wanted to catch the guy and they were wasting time looking at me."

"I understand." Sacco watched as the young man nodded and walked out into the squad room and found Alesini who was hanging up the phone when he approached. Speaking to the reporter in a low tone the cop watched the American. "He is very good…very driven. My only question is what is his motivation – and yours as well?"

"I'm afraid his motive is more pure than mine; he wants justice for his friend and his wife and now the other victims and their families; I on the other hand started out merely wanting a big story, but our young friend out there is slowly becoming a good influence on me. After meeting Signore Palladino, I too want justice."


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

The next several hours were spent talking to maids, barmen, bell hops, waiters…any employee who could have possibly been in contact with the suspect. Around 2:00AM the reporter and private investigator checked in at one of the hotels, both clearly tired and wanting sleep. In an effort to keep the American out of trouble with the police, the two shared a room. When Giorgio emerged from the bathroom after a shower Matt was already sleeping, his left arm hanging off of his bed and in his right hand resting on his chest was a picture. Carefully, the reporter leaned over to see a photo of Houston with a beautiful young woman, both on horseback and smiling. It appeared to have been taken a few years earlier during a much happier time in life. Smiling, the reporter climbed into his own bed and turned out the lamp, thinking to himself. _The young lady must be CJ…_

Awaking at 7:20, Houston still had the picture in his hand and carefully replaced it in his wallet. Moving quietly so as not to disturb Stavros, he gathered some clothes and went into the bathroom and climbed into the shower, the hot water reviving him. The night before had been the best he had slept in quite some time. Between being tired and drifting off while remembering the day that the picture of CJ and himself had been taken on the Houston ranch, he had a better feeling about what they were now up against and felt like he was ready to get back to work on it. As he stood over the sink lathering on shaving cream he thought back to his best friend since the age of ten. Until he left for the Army they had been almost constant companions; he missed her. She was not just the best friend that he had ever had but the cause of the feelings that had been trying to grow and intensify while he had been off serving his country. If he was honest with himself, they had always been there. From the first time he laid eyes on her while riding fences at the age of ten she had his heart. Bill Houston knew it and so many others over the years had wondered why the pair had never been romantically involved. But Matt knew that he needed her friendship – desperately. CJ, even though dealing with problems of her own in the form of her uncle, Errol Parsons whom she was forced to live with from the age of ten, had still been Matt's confidant – one of the few people who knew what had happened to him as a young child. They had helped each other over the years, Matt by working at her side every morning before school and on the weekends to finish the long list of chores that Errol set for her; and CJ by helping him, among other things, to be able to be in complete darkness without fear after the torment of his kidnapping. When the quickly-growing whiskers were gone from his face, he emerged from the bathroom to find his roommate putting on his shoes. "Mornin'."

"Good morning to you. You had a good night I trust?"

"I did." He put away his clothes and zipped up the suitcase, looking around the room to make sure that he hadn't forgotten something. "You ready?"

"I will be shortly." Stavros thought about asking his new friend about the picture but thought better of it…at least for the time being. There were still so many unanswered questions about the American but there was one thing of which the reporter was certain: Mattlock Houston was a born detective. He looked over at the man who was now staring out at the traffic below as he finished packing his suitcase.

"Damn it!" The sudden exclamation took the reporter by surprise. "Cab drivers…we didn't think about cab drivers." Fumbling in his shirt pocket the younger man found the card that Detective Alesini had given him the day before and called the cell phone number. "Detective, it's Houston. We didn't think about cab drivers."

On the other end of the line the cop was in his lieutenant's office giving an update. "I will take care of it. Are you still at your hotel?"

"Yeah, we're about to leave." Matt had put the card back into his pocket and stood with his hand on the suitcase.

"I'll pick you up. Stay there." Hanging up he told his superior about the addition.

"The American is very good…you should have thought of that." Sitting down he saw the look of frustration on his junior's face. "I should have thought of it as well. Go get them – I'll arrange to have the drivers informed." Nodding, the younger man left.

Waiting in front of the hotel, Matt was approached by a cabbie looking for a fare. After finding out that he spoke English somewhat he told him that although he didn't need a ride he did need some information. A couple of bills from his wallet persuaded the older man and Matt sat down in the front seat and asked if he had seen or heard of anyone named Sancho Rosales or matching the description.

_"__Sì, Signore."_ Squinting as he looked at his watch he continued. "It was..." Matt knew that the language barrier was the problem now, not motivation, and was patient. "Not last night but the one before, _capire_?" The private investigator nodded and exchanged a hopeful look with the reporter who was leaning on the cab listening intently. "He, uh...he speak with an accent but not _italiano_. It was like uh..._russo_."

"Russo? Russian?"

"_Sì, Signore."_

"How did he pay – with cash?" Matt held up more bills and the driver nodded. "Was it Italian?"

"No, no, no..._griego_."

Stavros spoke up then. "Greek."

"_Sì."_

Alesini pulled up and saw the pair talking to the driver who got nervous the minute the young cop approached, but was reassured by Houston. "He's okay – he's with us." Looking at the detective who was leaning on the driver's side window he posed a question. "Would it be possible for us to get with a sketch artist? I think he saw our guy the other night."

"By all means yes." In Italian he told the driver to follow him to the precinct and as he turned away, Matt called out to him.

"I'm gonna ride with him – maybe we can learn something else."

"Very good." Alesini got in his car and led the way back to the precinct, the thought that Houston was not directly under his supervision coming to mind, but after his hard work the day before and already that morning, he thought the lieutenant was being too cautious – a complete turnaround from his opinion less than twenty four hours before. He liked the American and couldn't comprehend that the rumors of him attacking a Greek police officer were true. After all, he thought to himself, Greeks were very dramatic.

They arrived at the station and met with the sketch artist in Tenente Sacco's office. While the driver gave the artist the information she needed, the lieutenant pulled both Matt and Giorgio aside. "How did you find this man?"

"We were out in front of the hotel...he just pulled up looking for a fare." Houston shrugged his shoulders.

With a look of disbelief the man turned and went back to Alesini's desk and had a seat since his own office was occupied. "Signore Houston...you...you are unique." He smiled. "To hell with the Greeks, I like you."

"Sir, I appreciate that...but what I really want is to catch this creep." He leaned against the wall, his hands shoved down in his pockets as he thought. "If the driver can give us a good picture of this guy and we can work with the media..."

"Yes, that is the plan. Our spokesperson is on his way over now. As soon as we fill him in he is planning on a press conference and has asked that you two appear with him." The shock on the young man's face showed and Sacco broke into laughter.

Less than an hour later the media had gathered and the lieutenant had the picture and discription of their suspect circulated around. Very few questions were taken, but Matt knew that one was about him: he heard the phrase _americano_. Sacco's answer wasn't clear to him but the flashes from the cameras and the lenses of the video cameras zoomed in on him, something that he was not accustomed to and really didn't care for in the least.

When they made it back to Sacco's office lunch had been delivered and as he started to eat the private investigator realized how hungry he had been all day. He had just wolfed down a pepperoni calzone when the lieutenant's phone rang.

"Sacco..." The man's face went from somewhat relaxed to anger filled. "_Grazie_." He hung up and looked at the two foreigners, Matt's face must have reflected what he already knew in his gut, as the older man nodded. "He has murdered again...in Paris."

Very carefully, the private investigator set down the cup he had been drinking from and closed his eyes. A whoosh of surprised breath came from Alesini. The young cop shook his head in disbelief. "So soon?"

"Yes..." Sacco stood and went to Houston. "Your presence has been requested at the Central Directorate of the Judicial Police." He saw the confused look on the American's face. "You have heard of INTERPOL?" Houston nodded, still confused. "They wish to speak with both of you. You will be leaving Rome within the hour and will be met by a representative at Charles de Galle Airport." The lieutenant walked around the desk and leaned against the front. "Surely you knew that these atrocities have gained the attention of all of Europe?"

"I…" Matt swallowed and shook his head. "I hadn't really thought about it…I just want to catch the guy."

"You will have more help now; I wish you the best of luck." He extended his hand to the American and then the Greek, both of whom shook it and then stood to leave.

"Thank you."

"Alesini will transport you to the airport. Go get him."

"Yes sir."


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

After being seen off by Alesini, Houston and Stavros were welcomed aboard a Dassault Falcon 50 belonging to the Italian Air Force that took off immediately, neither speaking for a couple of minutes as they both thought over the situation that they were now in; Matt couldn't believe that things were progressing at such a fast pace and was more than a little nervous about being sent for by INTERPOL. The memory of the incident in Corfu kept going through his mind and he was worried that any such problems with the international police agency would find him locked up for a very long time.

Giorgio, although he had been looking for a big story and gotten one far more important than he could have ever imagined, was shocked just as much as his companion. He also realized that one false step could destroy his career. While he was used to being known on Corfu, the realization that he was now dealing with all of Europe was daunting.

"Well…" The Texan finally looked at the reporter. "What have we got ourselves into?"

"Funnily enough I was having the same thought."

"What if they don't want our help? What if they think like the police in Corfu?" Matt finally vocalized the worry that he had kept quiet until that moment.

"I don't think that is the case. If they thought you were a criminal…" He gestured around them at the more than comfortable surroundings of the executive jet. "…Let us say we would not be treated so well."

"Good point." Taking a deep breath, he looked around the aircraft. "Man, this thing is sweet." A lieutenant had been assigned to keep an eye on the pair. Matt waved him over. "English?"

"Yes sir. What may I do for you?"

"I was just wondering…could you tell me a little about the plane?" Stavros began laughing. "Could I see the cockpit?"

"Allow me to ask the captain, sir." Turning, he went forward and knocked on the cockpit door and spoke to someone inside before waving at the American who nearly jumped for joy. Stavros shook his head and laughed as Houston went forward, a huge smile on his face. It was an hour before he returned to the seat.

"Man, I have got to see about getting one of these. This thing is amazing."

"You will have to hire a pilot – will your father approve?" The reporter laughed.

"No, I won't."

"You fly?" Stavros was surprised.

"Since I was fifteen – had a pilot's license before my driver's license." The private investigator gave a laugh, a surprising sound to the reporter who hadn't heard much of that from the younger man.

"Like I said when we met – you are a very interesting person."

Once landed at Charles de Galle Airport just northeast of Paris the two were whisked away in a police vehicle with siren blaring loudly and taken to the scene of the latest murder, Matt thankful that his companion spoke French. They came to a halt outside of a convent less than two miles north of the Seine. "No…" He looked at Stavros who shook his head in disbelief. Following the officer who had been charged with escorting them, the pair came to stop at what was left of the scene: a large area of courtyard that had been cordoned off with crime scene tape and a copious amount of dried blood on the sidewalk. "This guy is sick…can you believe he did something like that – here?!" The private investigator squatted down near a pentagram that had apparently been drawn using the nun's blood. "And what is this supposed to be?" He pointed to another drawing a couple of feet away.

"The pentagram can have different meanings, my friend." Stavros moved closer. "But considering who he has murdered here it would seem to point to the occult. As for the other…I have no idea."

Matt stood back up and began walking around the area, looking for anything else that the killer had left behind but without success, finally walking back over where the pentagram and other markings had been made and took a picture of them. He heard the officer speaking to Giorgio after a few minutes and when he approached the pair again the reporter told him that whenever he was through looking at the scene their presence was requested at the Central Directorate. The cowboy turned back to look at the scene once more and then looked upwards, noticing for the first time a statue of the Virgin Mary that overlooked the courtyard. He turned back, following the officer back to the car and the pair was taken to the Judicial Police headquarters where they were shown into an office where four men were waiting for them.

"Monsieur Houston, Monsieur Stavros: please permit me to introduce myself and my colleagues. I am Jacque Aubert, Associate Director, and from your left to right are Monsieurs Delacourte, Renault, and Mathieu. I would like to thank you for making the journey from Rome to speak with us."

"It's an honor to meet you all…but I'm not sure why you wanted to see us." Both men took the seats that were offered to them.

"We have been following the trail of deaths that originated in Vienna, just as you have. Although there seems to have been a slight disturbance in Corfu…" He gave the private investigator a small smile. "…I believe that you two gentlemen are, shall we say, our best hope. We have officers working on the case now, but you Monsieur Houston have been with it from the beginning. You two gentlemen have produced more evidence than the officials in all three previous countries have been able to find."

"Sir, a lot of that was just …" Matt shrugged. "…well sir, it was just luck."

"We researched your background: you may call it luck – we do not. Your credentials speak for themselves. Now - to get down to the matter at hand." Aubert nodded to the two men. "You have visited the scene of this killer's most recent atrocity. Could you give us your thoughts?"

Trying to choose his words carefully and keeping in mind what Stavros had said about the pentagram having many different meanings he went ahead and told them what he now thought. "The pentagram at the latest scene is new; the fact that the act was carried out on Holy ground right in front of a statue of the Virgin Mary seems to me like a slap in the face of Christianity…but as Mr. Stavros pointed out earlier, the pentagram can be used in many ways. As for the other markings, I have no idea what they are."

"And there have been no other of these symbols used in the previous crimes?"

"No sir – not that we've seen."

Aubert nodded thoughtfully and looked to the other members present and then continued. "We have posted an alert throughout the country using the information and picture that you gentlemen have assembled. In all actuality, it has been sent worldwide as we have no knowledge of where he might strike next."

"Maybe the police in Rome will be able to track down more information on the killer. The only name that we know that he has used was Sancho Rosales. With that being put out in the alerts I doubt he will be using it again."

"Very true." He exchanged another look with the panel. "The officer will give you a number to call if you should think of anything else that you deem important. We are grateful for any help that you might be able to render." Standing, he extended his hand to the young man from Texas and the reporter, both of whom went down the table and shook with each member present.

"Thank you…for welcoming us. We just want justice for the victims." Matt turned and followed their driver outside. "Now what?" Looking to Giorgio he rubbed the back of his neck, now realizing that he had a huge headache.

"I have no idea. Perhaps since our killer decided to reveal the symbols we should see what all of the meanings are?"

"Okay." He looked back at the building. "I don't know about you but somehow I just don't feel comfortable…"

"It is the cowboy mentality, hey?" The reporter gave him a smile.

"Maybe, but I believe I have a good idea."

Checking into a hotel that overlooked the Port de Plaisance de Paris Arsenal the two started in to work: Houston by making a phone call to Texas and Stavros by sitting down and refining his notes. As the phone rang, the private investigator found his heart beating a little faster and then when it was answered a smile of relief came over his face. "Hey there – how ya doin'?"

"Wondering how you are…and if you need a lawyer. Haven't had any other scrapes since Corfu have you?" CJ was relieved to hear his voice on the other end of the line and found her hands shaking.

"No, not so far, but I did just come from INTERPOL if you can believe it."

"With you I can believe just about anything." She laughed and his heart skipped a beat. "They must not think you're guilty."

"No, actually they were asking for our help…and now I need to ask you for some."

"Me? What in the world can I do?"

"I need some research done but I don't have what I need to do it right now."

"What's that?" She took a sip of the iced tea that she had just gotten, the lonely feeling that had been present since he had flown back to Vienna finally lifting.

"Are you in your office?"

"Uh huh." She sat back down behind the desk.

"Good. I need you to do some research into possible meanings of pentagrams."

"As in a five pointed star?" The surprise in her voice was clear all the way across the Atlantic.

"Uh huh. The killer…well he left one at the scene here in Paris...along with some other mark. We don't know what it is."

"You're in Paris? I saw earlier on the news that you were in Rome…when did you get to Paris?"

"About two and half hours ago."

"So he murdered someone there, too?"

"Uh huh…a nun at a convent."

"Houston…I know Danny was a good friend but this is just too dangerous. You need to come on home and let the police do their jobs."

"CJ, they're asking for our help."

"So you're still with the reporter?"

"Yeah, he's a good guy. He uh…well we've got a few things in common." Looking across at Giorgio he received a smile.

"Ooookay, so you just want me to look up pentagrams?" She pulled over the keyboard and went on the internet and began searching.

"Please…"

"Okay…" Reading through the information she found as she sipped the tea, a feeling of fear came over her. "According to what I'm finding the position of the points can determine the symbolism."

"Such as?" He took the phone out on the balcony and leaned against the rail watching boats move through the canal across the boulevard.

"If turned where two points are down, like you usually see as a star, it was used to represent the five senses – sight, smell, hearing, taste, and touch. It can also represent the five wounds of Christ."

"Where he was crucified…"

"Right…but according to Eliphas Levi, and I quote: _"A reversed pentagram, with two points projecting upwards, is a symbol of evil and attracts sinister forces because it overturns the proper order of things and demonstrates the triumph of matter over spirit. It is the goat of lust attacking the heavens with its horns, a sign execrated by initiates." _He also said, _"The flaming star, which, when turned upside down, is the hieroglyphic sign of the goat of Black Magic, whose head may be drawn in the star, the two horns at the top, the ears to the right and left, the beard at the bottom. It is the sign of antagonism and fatality.""_

"Great." He sighed. "Okay, can you do a search for cult symbols? Something that looks like a circle with a line across the center horizontally – hang on; let me look at the picture." He pulled his phone out and brought the picture up on the screen. "It kind of looks like a tree growing up out of the ground and…I don't know…maybe the roots underneath?"

"Alright." There was silence on the end of the line as she began searching and a couple of minutes passed. "Okay, does it look like a serpent on the bottom…underground around the roots?"

He shifted the phone and took another look. "Yeah…now that you mention it."

"I think it may be the Slavic Tree of Life…" Taking another sip of the tea, CJ went on to explain that there were two gods considered to be enemies in Slavic mythology: Perun and Veles. Perun was the god of thunder represented by an eagle and Veles the god of the underworld often represented by a serpent or dragon curled around the underside of the Tree of Life.

"Oh boy…this just…we need to get a look at that…" He thought for a minute. "Is there a library around here?"

Snickering on the other end of the line CJ opened a new tab. "That isn't a question I've ever heard from you before."

"Cute." He sighed. It was so good just to talk to her; it didn't even matter that it was about a nut-job serial killer. The sound of her voice made everything better…at least until the call was ended.

"Where are you exactly?" He gave her the address of the hotel. "You're in luck, pal. Go across the bridge right there in front of the hotel and go straight on Rue Mornay until you come to Rue de Schomberg. When you cross it becomes Rue de Sully. It's called the Bibliothèque de l'Arsenal. It's less than half a mile away."

"Well ain't that just handy. Okay, we'll go see what we can find. Good thing Giorgio speaks French." He wanted to stay on the line with her but knew that he needed to find out as much as he could as quickly as possible. "Thanks, CJ. You're a lifesaver."

"I really wish you would just drop this and come home…Bill misses you. I do, too." Tears came to her eyes.

"I've got to catch this guy, CJ. It's just…it's something that I've got to do." He paused for a minute. "I'll call you later. And I really miss you." God! It was right there on the tip of his tongue but he just couldn't do it – he couldn't put their friendship on the line.

"Miss you too, pal. Be careful over there, okay?" _That's not all that I want to say. _"And please get home soon."

"As soon as I can. 'Bye." He hung up, a catch in his throat that made breathing difficult and swallowing impossible. After a minute he calmed down and went back in the room.

"Is everything alright?" Giorgio saw the pained expression on his young friend's face.

"I think we might be on to something. Let's take a walk."


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

"Your friend CJ is very good…" Stavros looked in disbelief at the picture that they had found in a volume that covered Slavic mythology.

"Does it strike you that he didn't seem particularly hurried?" Houston leaned back in the chair, rubbing his eyes.

"The pentagram is easily drawn but the Tree of Life is more complicated. I will get copies of the information on the two gods and symbols that we may study later." The reporter left to take care of the printing and Matt pulled out his phone and looked at the pictures again. _All of these murders took time…you can't do something like that – as thorough as he's been – in a hurry._

"I suggest we visit the bistro that we passed earlier. Thought is much easier on a full stomach." The reporter tucked the stack of papers under his arm and together they left the building, walking back along Rue de Sully until they reached the corner of Rue Mornay and had a seat at one of the tables outside the small restaurant, both ordering steaks. While Stavros ordered a glass of wine with his meal, Matt opted for coffee and they watched as the traffic flowed by them. "Perhaps I should not, but I would like to ask a question."

"Okay…" Matt looked across at him.

"You do not drink alcohol…"

"At the moment." Houston gave a little smile. "I uh…" Squirming in the chair slightly he looked back up at his friend. "When I first got back home I kind of went on a toot…for about a month. Then I spent the next month drying out on an oil platform working my ass off. To be completely honest I don't trust myself just yet."

"Very admirable…not the "toot" as you put it…"

"Another one of those phrases." The cowboy laughed.

"But the fact that you have managed not to drink considering the stress you have been under."

"Gonna toast me on that?" Houston laughed as the food was brought to them.

"I will…" Raising the glass he did just that. _"Sas chairetó̱."_

The cowboy toasted with his coffee. _"Gesundheit." _Both men laughed and then started in on their meal that ended with slices of coconut cake. "Now that's much better." Matt sighed as he sat back, his left ankle propped on his right knee as he drank a last cup of coffee. "Didn't know that they had such good steaks on this side of the pond."

After a few more minutes they walked back toward the hotel, crossing over the pedestrian bridge before going up to their room. They sat down and as Stavros translated the text of the pages they had gotten Matt took notes. When they reached the end of the information the younger man stood and stretched, walking over to the doors that led to the balcony and opening them. The fresh air filled his head and he began pacing back and forth between the table in the room and the railing of the balcony, the movement somehow helping him to think. "He's got money for travel and hotels…that doesn't seem to be a problem for him…" Leaning on the balcony rail the thoughts continued. "This is the fourth murder…that we know about. In Vienna, the only evidence he left was the remains…" Although the vision that floated through his mind of Tracy Michaelson was rough, he found himself dealing with it from another more impersonal perspective – just as he had tried to deal with the terrible things he had seen during his time in the service. "In Corfu, he was seen by the maid and we found the shirt…" Turning he went back inside. "…Plus we found out about the name Sancho Rosales." Pausing by the table he tapped on it. "In Rome there were the footprints and the knife." He stopped. "What about fingerprints? We never heard back from Sacco on them." Pulling the card out of his pocket that he had gotten from the lieutenant, Matt called. "Hi, it's Houston. Did y'all get any fingerprints off of the knife?"

"We just received them…" He removed a pair of glasses from the top of his head and put them on. "Very strange…they are from Croatia – Emil Marco Castanos. I will forward it to INTERPOL along with a sample of the blood that was found on the knife. As often as not a person who uses a knife to harm another also is cut in the exchange."

"Croatia…" Houston exchanged a look with Stavros who nodded. "Lieutenant, that makes perfect sense." Telling the Italian about the new addition to the crime scene he heard a string of exclamations on the other end.

"You two have done well, very well. I'll be sending this immediately and have a copy delivered to you as well."

"Good. Thank you, sir." He hung up and then called the number that they had received from the officer who had been driving them that afternoon and was in turn transferred directly to Aubert who seemed very pleased with their progress as well as the information from Rome.

"Thank you, Monsieur Houston. We will update the alert notice on him once we receive the information and I will have an officer bring a copy straight to you."

The private investigator sat down on one of the beds and exchanged a look with his friend. "This is the best information we'll likely get on this guy."

"True. I feel fortunate; yourself?"

"I do." He stood up and began pacing once again. "I wonder what kind of record this guy has…if he's done this before."

"Or if he has ever been caught before…"

Thirty minutes later an officer showed up with copies of the reports transcribed into English and after thanking the man who said that he would remain stationed outside the door if they had need of anything else, the pair sat down at the table and began reading. "Emil Marco Castanos, 45, red hair, blue eyes, six foot five inches tall." A puzzled look on his face disappeared as he continued reading. "Okay, I wondered about a Spanish name when he was from Croatia. Castanos was born in Spain to Elisa Flores Castanos…father was Croatian – Dragoslav Ivanovic Zoric. They were never married…huh, this is interesting. Aubert added a note here: _"Please see attached file on murder of Elisa Castanos."_ "

Giorgio rifled through the stack of folders, pulling out one with the mother's name on it and began reading. "She was murdered when the boy was three. Her family stated that she did not inform Zoric of the pregnancy or birth and but he somehow found out about Emil when he was two years of age. He petitioned for custody and was denied by the Spanish authorities. After numerous attempts he seemed to have abandoned the idea. Then Elisa Castanos was found murdered in her apartment and the boy was gone. The authorities tried to question the father but…this is quite interesting and it also backs up one of your suppositions: Dragoslav Zoric is a very wealthy man. He is the owner of one of the largest shipping lines in Europe."

"So he pulled strings and had the questions quashed." Matt was furiously taking notes.

"It would seem, yes."

"And the Spanish authorities never solved the murder?"

"They did not."

"So maybe the apple didn't fall far from the tree." He picked up the file on Castanos. "It says here that he was enrolled in a private school from the age of five up until he was ten…and was expelled when three other students were nearly killed during a fight with him. One was paralyzed…at the age of ten?" The look he gave Stavros was incredulous. "He was tutored privately after that…never attended college but was picked up several times for fighting and twice on suspicion of murder but nothing was ever proven. Aubert left another note: _"See files on Marusic and Vukoja."_" He dug into the folders and found both handing one to the reporter and opening one himself and began reading. Both finished at the same time. "What did you get?"

"Larisa Veronika Marusic was found strangled in the basement of her family's home in Pula. She had been dating Castanos and the parents immediately suspected him. The charges were dropped due to lack of evidence and the family soon moved away."

"Okay, the other was Valentina Slava Vukoja – she was a maid that worked in the Castanos home. Her husband found her in the garden behind their home, mutilated." Houston looked at his partner. "Sounds like he might have found his favorite method of killing at that point."

"What happened?"

"The officials could find no proof of who did it and her husband was found hanging from a tree just a few feet from where she had died…about six days later." He stopped and closed his eyes, the story of the Horvats and the Michaelsons being too much alike and the thought of finding his college friend hanging from the bannister in his home brought him to a complete stop, the impersonal attitude that he had tried to adopt coming to a screeching halt. He felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"You have come far, Houston – too far to stop now. Do not let this deter you: let it instead inspire you." The reporter spoke quietly.

Matt nodded. "Boy a shot of whiskey would sure be good about now." He looked up at Stavros. "But I think a pot of coffee would be more useful." He called room service and then turned back to the folders in front of them. "Okay…" Standing and pacing once again, the private investigator's mind raced ahead. "So from the sound of it he had at least two kills before Vienna." The pacing continued until there was a knock on the door; the coffee arrived and he brought it in pouring a cup for each of them as well as the officer who was still stationed outside the door. He walked out on the balcony and leaned against the rail in deep thought. Stavros joined him. "Something set this guy off…" Tapping out a beat on the railing he watched the boats travel up and down the canal. "…And the symbols point toward the occult, Satanism – whatever you want to call it. He's picked up his pace since Corfu."

"Maybe he is aware that we are now following him?"

"Maybe…" The private investigator drank more of the brew. "And you know what else? He's started getting careless since he accelerated his kills. We've starting finding evidence since Corfu. The fingerprint in Rome was the one that was the most damning; it gave us what we have now. But the biggest question is where will he go from here? And if the airlines and border authorities have been alerted how is he going to travel?"

"The net is drawing closer."

"Let's just hope it doesn't have a hole in it that he can slip through." Finishing off the last of his coffee he went and looked at a map of Europe that was in the report showing each location where he had attacked. "Shipping…" He set the cup down and picked up his phone and dialed CJ's cell number and once again felt his heart beat a little faster.

"Are you on the way home?" She didn't even say hello. Since their conversation earlier she hadn't been able to concentrate on anything and had spent the last hour staring at the information that she had looked up for Houston, hoping to see something that would bring him home safely.

"Not yet. Are you still at the office?"

"For all the good it's doing. Houston, please come on home. I'm worried about you."

"Do me another favor and look into Dragoslav Ivanovic Zoric."

"Did you even hear what I said?"

"I did…and I want to get back there as soon as possible, but to do that I need to get more on this guy – we know who he is now, CJ: Emil Marco Castanos. We got a hit on the fingerprint in Rome."

"You did?" She sounded surprised.

"Well don't sound all shocked and everything – I did work for Uncle Sam investigating ya know."

"I know, I just…oh, alright. I swear though, you better hurry up and get your butt back home. I don't know how much longer I can make excuses for you with Bill."

"Make excuses?"

"Houston, he is _mad_. Mad enough to spit rivets. He wants you back here and at work on the offshore drilling project." She began working the keyboard.

"I already told him I don't like 'em – they aren't safe for the workers or the environment."

"Is that why you're staying away?"

"That's not fair, CJ." He stopped right there.

"So are you just going to pick and choose the projects you work on? Is that a privilege of being the owner's son?" Her anger was starting to rise; she had never meant to say that to him.

"Maybe I won't be working for Houston Oil when I get back." The thought had crossed his mind over the last few days. As bad as he hated seeing what he was seeing the thought that he might be able to save a life and get justice for the grieving families was making him feel like he was worthwhile and useful again – a feeling he hadn't felt in quite some time.

She stopped typing. "You don't mean that."

"Yeah, I do." Matt rubbed his temples. "CJ, I just…I don't like being treated like a kid. If my time in the Army didn't prove that I'm an adult…then maybe another change is due." He had finally given voice to something that had been brewing for a while.

"Houston, he's built the company up all these years so that one day you could take it over. Think of all the work he's put into it. And you've benefited from it."

"I never said I wanted it."

"Usually a family business is just that – run by a family." She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Matt and Bill loved each other dearly – she couldn't imagine what would happen if he told his dad what he had just told her.

"CJ, I love him – he's my dad. But there's nothing that says that I have to follow in his footsteps…and I don't like people thinking that the only reason I'm there is because of the last name that we share." Both got quiet. "Look, this isn't really something that we need to talk about over the phone. I'm sorry if I upset you. But look at what you just said yourself: "Is that a privilege of being the owner's son?" That's exactly what I'm talking about…and if you would say it then what does everyone else think?"

"I'm sorry…I shouldn't have said it."

"But the fact is that you thought it and you're not the only one. I love Daddy…I just don't want to work on something that I don't believe is right just because it will make a lot of money. He didn't raise me to sell out what I believe." There was complete silence on the other end of the line. "Are you still there?"

"Yeah…" She wiped away a tear and cleared her throat.

"I didn't mean to make you cry." Matt's heart felt like it was going to break in two.

"You didn't…" Going back to the keyboard she covered the phone with one hand as she blew her nose.

"You're not a very good liar, CJ; you never were."

"Shut up. Dragoslav Ivanovic Zoric was the owner of Adriatic Cosmos Transport, Romania Mining Corporation, and even owned a string of amusement parks."

"Was?"

"He died about a month ago."

"Which might have set Castanos off…maybe the old man was holding him back." He paused thinking how it might sound to her. "And no it isn't the same thing."

"I didn't say a word."

"But you thought it." He knew without a doubt how her mind worked. "Okay, what about the businesses?"

"They belong to Castanos now – he inherited the entire empire. He's a billionaire, Houston."

"Damn." He thought. "So if he wants a ship to go somewhere it's going." Stavros had refrained from entering the room when he heard the tone of the conversation, but now returned when it centered on their suspect again. "We need to find out where every single one of those ships is right now."

"Houston, I seriously doubt that I can find that on the internet."

"You can if you know how."

"Well obviously I don't."

"I do…and you're about to learn…unless you don't want to help anymore. I'll understand if you say no."

"I want you to get home…how in the hell do I do it?"

"Okay…here's what you're gonna do…" He took her step by step through a process that, although she found it somewhat exciting, also worried her.

While waiting for part of the information, she spoke again. "This won't get us in trouble will it? I mean, Houston Oil? I _am_ on a company computer."

"As of this moment it isn't a Houston Oil Company computer; it's in the warehouse district of Shanghai."

"How…oh my God…" She heard him chuckle on the other end of the line and although the sound was one of her favorites and was music to her ears, the fact that he knew how to do such a thing was further proof of what he had been trying to tell her earlier: he was no longer a kid and was very good at what he had been doing since joining the Army. Her childhood friend, her confidant, was capable of things that she had never even thought about. "Damn…here it is…crap." He laughed again. "It's…I guess GPS coordinates?"

"Good; that's perfect. Now open another tab. Got it?"

"Yeah…"

"Copy and paste the first set of coordinates into the browser."

"It's in the middle of the Adriatic Sea."

"Keep on with the rest of them." He wrote down each location.

"There's one in the Mediterranean between Morocco and Spain."

"Are there any others that are closer?"

"Hang on - I've got a couple more to go here." She continued working the keyboard. "No, the last two are near Australia and Turkey."

"That's gotta be it. That's gotta be the bastard!" Matt's shout drew the attention of the guard posted outside. Stavros answered the door when he knocked and assured him that all was well.

"What do I do now?"

"Go back to the company's page."

"Alright, I'm there."

"There should be something on there that tells where they're bound."

"Lisbon."

"He's going to Lisbon." Matt looked at Stavros. "We need to let Aubert know and get on a plane." As the reporter made the call, he came back to CJ. "You did great, CJ. Thank you. And I'm sorry. I'll have a talk with Daddy when I get home."

"Just please _get _home…I miss you so much." _Just tell him already!_

"I…" It almost happened but he was too scared. "I miss you, too – a lot. I'll call you as soon as I know something. 'Bye." He ended the call.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

"Ever been to Portugal before?" Houston looked over at Stavros as a Falcon 2000 of the French Air Force hurtled into the sky.

"No."

"Speak Portuguese?"

"No… yourself?"

"Nope, just English and Spanish…but according to one of my high school English teachers I'm better at Spanish." He gave a chuckle. "I'm sure they're used to tourists, though."

"I only wish we _were_ tourists."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing…" Stavros had acted strangely the last couple of hours since they had made their discovery.

"Bull – what is it?"

"I…I never expected it to…" He waved his hands.

Matt looked at him for a minute. The reporter had been very confident the entire time they had been together until now. Something had suddenly spooked him. "You know I hadn't thought about it until just now…don't you have an editor or somebody that you have to answer to?"

"Yes." The expression on the reporter's face told his friend that was the problem.

"So he's getting tired of you bouncing around Europe…"

"I am afraid so."

"I hadn't even thought of that. I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to regret – you…" He stopped, unwilling to let Houston know how much of his conversation with CJ that he had overheard.

"I've got something to go back to if I want…that's what you were going to say." Giorgio looked straight ahead. While Houston had been speaking with Aubert, he had been on the phone with his editor who was quickly becoming irate and threatened to fire him if he didn't produce within twenty four hours. "Did you get fired?"

"Not as of yet."

"But they threatened you." He watched as the reporter nodded. Sighing as he looked out the window the Texan wondered what he could do to help him. "This story is big – you knew that from the beginning; that's why you helped me out in Corfu. Why don't they understand that?"

"They do to a certain extent – they are just in a hurry. I have twenty four hours…now more on the order of twenty two."

"Considering we're on the way to Lisbon that only leaves us about twenty hours to wrap this up." Houston shook his head. "I can't believe they would fire you from one of the biggest stories in Europe since…I don't know what. That's insane." The reporter shrugged. "You should have said something."

"My mind is telling me to go back to Corfu…but my heart…my heart is telling me that I need to see this story through to the end – no matter how long it takes."

"I don't have any newspaper connections but if they fire you I'll help you find something. I owe you…big time."

"But my payment may be getting fired from the job." Stavros completed the thought that was going through the private investigator's mind.

"If they do it will be the biggest mistake they'll ever make. I'll help you out." He watched as the reporter nodded and closed his eyes. Looking back out at the darkness outside the plane he thought back to his conversation with CJ earlier. Things had been said that he never would have imagined; but the one thing that needed to be said more than anything else hadn't – by either of them. Closing his eyes he thought about it for the millionth time in his life. From the age of ten he had wanted to say those three little words; they seemed so easy for everyone else to say but for him to say them to her would change everything. If they should happen to take their relationship from friendship to lovers and things didn't work out right he would likely lose his best friend. He needed her. His time in the Army had been rough in more ways than just getting shot at and having been bombarded; it was the first time he had been away from her for any real length of time. There had been plenty of times that he had thought about the two of them – how it would be to hold her, kiss her…make love. But the fear was there, too…not only if she rejected him but if it went wrong and he didn't have her friendship and support anymore, then what would he do?

Shifting in the seat he noticed that Giorgio appeared to have drifted off. He couldn't sleep – he was too wound up not only with chasing Castanos but trying to figure out what to do about CJ…and now he also had the worry of facing his dad and disappointing him - again. The first time he had done so was still recent enough to make him flinch – the memory of Bill throwing him into the chilly waters of the river behind the Houston estate to sober him up after a month-long drunk was a humiliating memory – one he never wanted to repeat. But he was sober now and had thought about the situation on more than one occasion. Since he had been back home and gone to work for the family business Bill had been thrilled. Matt, although happy to be back with him and CJ, wasn't feeling the elation that the elder Houston felt. He was like a robot going through the motions…and the fact that he felt like Bill was now watching him closely since his drunken blunder didn't make the vibe that he got from other members of the company any easier to take. The "he's the boss's kid" mentality although heavily veiled by long-time employees was there, and truthfully, Matt really didn't blame them. He knew the oil business, had grown up around it and worked in it – not just on the corporate level but out on rigs and platforms, driving delivery trucks, learning about how the refining process worked – he knew it inside and out and it just didn't excite him anymore, knowing that Bill wanted him to use that knowledge to expand the offshore drilling.

Another possibility went through his mind that brought both of his problems together: if he left Houston Oil how would his relationship with CJ change? Would it end? Or was he willing to keep her friendship at the expense of feeling tied down to a job that he was quickly growing to hate? She thought of Bill as a second father; he had assumed that role when she was ten and forced to live with Errol when her mom died. She had cried that afternoon over the situation. What would happen if he followed through with leaving? And he now knew he would have to leave. He had lived at home his entire life – although he had a dorm on campus at Rice he could go back to the Houston home anytime he wanted and often did just that. The Army had been the first time he had been out on his own. Things were about to change drastically…just how much depended on one person…CJ.

The reporter woke up a few minutes before the flight ended and watched as the younger man looked out the window into the darkness…what he was looking for was not there but inside his heart. He only hoped the American would be able to find it when the time came.

As they descended from the jet the two were met by a young woman who introduced herself as Jovita Castro of INTERPOL and drove them to the Polícia Judiciária Building. Matt found himself yawning as they rode up in the elevator, straightening himself up as they exited and were taken to a conference room where they met with Assistant Director Aldo Hipólito Santos and four others who didn't look pleased to be seated there in the middle of the night. Santos had received the report and request from France and now grilled the pair on how they had made the assumption that Castanos was headed to their country, looking unimpressed with Matt's limited answer – he wasn't going to reveal CJ's part in the investigation.

"I trust you gentlemen can understand why we are not particularly pleased at your presence." The Assistant Director made it perfectly clear that he had absolutely no use for the pair, regardless of what the French branch of INTERPOL had said.

"Sir, no offense intended…" Matt stood up and put his hands on the back of the chair. "…but I think I speak for Mr. Stavros when I say we aren't pleased to be here – we're just trying to stop a serial killer."

"I sincerely doubt that Mr. Castanos plans to visit our country. You are grasping at straws…and apparently like all the publicity that you have received. It appears that one wealthy man's son is chasing after another."

Just as he was about to reply Matt's phone rang and he looked at the caller ID: CJ. "Excuse me, please." Turning his back on the group he answered.

"Houston he's not going to Lisbon – he's going to London…I think. I missed one of the ships earlier. I'm sorry."

"That's okay. Thanks for letting me know. Call you back in a few minutes." He hung up. "Stavros - London. Let's go." They both left without another word to Santos or the group. As they descended to the parking garage he told his partner what had happened, the look on his face a combination of anger and impatience.

Miss Castro took them back to the airport where the French Jet was getting ready to take off, the captain none too pleased when he was recalled from the runway. Before they boarded she spoke. "Mr. Houston, not all of us in Portugal feel as Director Santos – thank you for alerting us."

He nodded and then jogged up the steps of the plane and apologized to the captain personally before their flight plan was changed. A few minutes later they took off for London, another two hour flight. As they were given the okay to remove their seatbelts, Houston pulled out his phone and called CJ back. "Hey, it's me. We're on the way to London."

"So it will take what – about two hours?" She had just checked on the time difference and knew from the sound of his voice that he was tired.

"Yeah."

"I'm so sorry – it's all my fault."

"No it isn't, CJ. It's his fault for doing what he is."

"I should have been more careful. I was trying to hurry…"

"And you don't have anything to be sorry about. Hush."

"Well I am anyway." Both were quiet for a minute. "You need to get some sleep."

"I can't sleep right now." He rubbed the back of his neck and gratefully accepted a cup of coffee from the airman who was assigned to the flight. As he sipped he got up and walked toward the back of the plane. "I'm sorry about earlier today."

"I've been thinking about what you said…and as much as I know it's going to hurt Bill, it's true. There have always been those rumors." _Along with a few others…that were more accurate than I ever admitted._

"CJ…" He sat down in one of the reclining seats. "If I do leave…will you go with me?"

"Where are you going to go?"

"I don't know…out of Texas. I just…I want to prove a few things." He shifted in the seat, the tiredness descending upon him like a lead weight. "There's the offshore deal – oil can be profitable without being dangerous like that. There are too many things that can happen offshore…storms, explosions, security…it just hasn't been thought through enough. It needs more planning."

"It can be dangerous on land for the same reasons – you of all people know that." Matt had been present not long before at a drilling site in Oklahoma where a worker had fallen asleep – a mistake that lead to five deaths and a big mess that was still in the cleanup stages.

"It can – but it's a lot easier to contain and clean up on land. But there's other things I want to prove, too."

"You want to open a private detective agency."

"I do…CJ people need help that the police just can't give them sometimes. And it isn't the cops' fault – not all the time anyway. They have a lot more constraints on them, not to mention a lot more work."

"I'm scared…what will it do to Bill?"

"I'm scared, too. That's part of why I want you to go with me."

"You know I'll always be there for you. We're best friends – right?"

"Yeah…" He wanted so badly to say it then, those words that were right there begging to be said. "We've got a lot to talk about when I get back."

"So I guess I won't be bored for too long working in contracts, huh?" She gave a nervous laugh.

"What do you think about California? I could find a ranch…" _I could quit being so damn stupid and tell you I love you, want to marry you and have a busload of kids._

"They say the weather's nice there."

"Start looking around for me, would ya?"

"If you promise me one thing…"

"Anything…"

"Be careful."

"Yes ma'am. Talk to you later." He hung up. Maybe a move would shake things up enough that he would feel secure enough…maybe those three little words would be said. Those were his last thoughts before sleep took over and he dreamed of CJ and a ranch with horses, cows…and a bunch of kids.

_**Present day…**_

"So our time in Portugal was short…and definitely not sweet." The PI gave a little smirk and then got serious once again, the production crew having a hard time now doing their jobs as the story got closer to the more recent events with Castanos.

Stavros spoke up. "Our arrival in London although cordial as the British always are, was also somewhat reserved."

"And who could blame them? We had just spent two hours flying to Lisbon only to turn right around and go to London…but as it turned out it wasn't soon enough. When we landed the next victim had already been taken and mutilated beyond belief…so much so that to this day they still haven't identified the poor woman. That's…" He paused, searching for the right words again. "That point was when my faith started to get shaky – in more ways than one. How God could let someone like that live – how could he continue to breathe the air and not be struck down by a bolt of lightning? Being in Iraq and Afghanistan had brought those questions up time after time." Pausing again he shook his head. "There is so much senseless killing in this world that goes unpunished…at least here on Earth. It's taken me years to finally make peace with the fact that it isn't my opinion that is important: it's God's that counts."

Nodding, Stavros agreed and let the pause hang in the air; he was uncertain that the editor and producer would leave it in; he felt it was right. The story here wasn't just about Castanos but about Houston himself and how he had dealt with overcoming his own demons while chasing down a demon that was very much alive and a threat to others. "The authorities in London were upset that we hadn't been a step ahead of him."

"They were, very much so. The victim there…I don't want to get too graphic here…but she was mutilated worse than the others. It's already been told that he skinned them and that was part of what he did to her. She was dissected: he removed her organs – laid them out to each side and then systematically dissected each one into such small pieces…" Matt paused, looking to Stavros afraid that he was saying too much.

"Continue."

"They were in such small pieces that the medical examiner at first had trouble determining exactly what was what. Her veins and arteries were sliced open – it was delicate work done by a madman." He shook his head. "All of the scenes had an effect on me but that one…that one almost did me in. I've seen a lot in my life – before then, after then – but that was just so…absolutely brutal it shook me to my core. He left the pentagram sign again and the Tree of Life but this time he used her intestines for that." For the first time in almost three hours he stopped completely. "I'm sorry, Giorgio…can we take a break?"

"Most certainly." He stood as did Matt who immediately went to CJ who was waiting for him with open arms, the pair holding each other as the crew watched.

"Let's go get a drink, okay?" She caressed his face as she spoke and he nodded.

"Why don't y'all come on in?" He held the kitchen door as Stavros and the crew entered the home and were treated to a variety of items that the lawyer had readied for them.

"Are you sure you are okay, my friend?" The reporter was once again worried that maybe he shouldn't have asked for the interview.

"Yeah, yeah…I'm fine. Let's just get a little something and then get back to it." Matt clapped him on the shoulder and they all filled their plates, going into the den to sit down.

"You have a beautiful home." Kristen spoke up finally. Everyone had been subdued by what they had heard.

"Thanks. Y'all don't all talk at once now, ya hear?" Matt gave them a smile.

"Mr. Houston…uh, Houston…" Luis the cameraman corrected himself. "If you don't mind my asking – how do you deal with something like…" He motioned with his hands. "…Like all that you saw?"

"It took me quite a while to figure it out." Matt took a drink of the root beer that CJ knew he would want. "It's kind of a process. The first defense is to compartmentalize: try to keep it impersonal." He felt CJ move as she gave a slight chuckle. Jerking his head in her direction he grinned. "As you can tell that isn't always successful – but I try. If I didn't I would have been locked up a long time ago. The next thing is work like hell to try to make whatever it was as right as I can – by catching whoever did the wrongdoing." He paused and took another sip.

"Then what do you do?" Jon the cameraman had dealt with his share of things seen during some time working for the news service abroad.

"When it's all over – at least as much as it ever will be – I just…well, did you notice all the land here when you came up the drive?" The crew nodded. "There are horses and cows here. I spend time out there, thinking, riding, herding, working the cows…looking at good things. I just have to let it go."

Kristen spoke up again. "But it isn't that easy all the time – is it?"

"Not by a long shot." Reaching for his wife's hand he raised it to his lips and kissed it. "If it wasn't for this lady right here along with the rest of my family…I wouldn't be sitting here talking to you right now; I would be six feet under."

"Ah, and there we go again with the phrases." Giorgio gave a laugh as did the others. After about an hour they went back out and started in on the interview again after a slight adjustment to the lights.

Prompting his friend, the reporter picked up the story where it had been put on hold. "The London victim was the most abused."

Matt nodded his head. "She was. But we found a clue there that eventually led to his capture…eventually."


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

_**December 17, 2005**_

"Mr. Houston?" A decidedly British accent met Matt at the bottom of the stairs of the jet. He couldn't believe he had fallen asleep after his call to CJ.

"Yes sir." He shook the offered hand. "Sorry to drag y'all out of the bed so early."

"When duty calls, sir." The young man led Houston and Stavros to a car that was waiting for them and quickly whisked them from City Airport to a building on Marsham Street. Matt caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror of the car and wished that he had had time for a shave – the whiskers and wrinkled clothing probably wouldn't lend credibility to his cause.

They were escorted into a conference room on the fifth floor much like the last two that they had been taken to, and were introduced to Mrs. Abigail Courtney-Smythe, a middle-aged woman who looked like she would have much preferred to be in her bed. Again, Matt apologized for the hour.

"Mr. Houston, when there is the chance that our citizens may be in danger the hour does not determine our response. Please be seated." She waited until the pair did and were offered tea. "I have read through the materials that you have collected so far and also read that you just came from Lisbon, Portugal. What influenced your decision that London was a more viable target for Mr. Castanos?"

"The availability of one of his ships. I'm afraid that particular vessel was overlooked the first time. It was sailing from La Havre to London."

"So if your assumptions are correct Mr. Castanos may be here already…before you yourselves."

"Yes ma'am, I'm afraid that's a possibility. What we were hoping is that your surveillance cameras might be able to spot him, as well as police officers. We really had no indication of where he would go – it was more of an educated guess."

"Quite…" She looked to her associates. "The police forces have been apprised of the request and bulletins are being issued through the media."

"Yes ma'am…" Matt stopped as an aide quickly entered the room and slipped a note to Mrs. Courtney-Smythe. The look on her face told him what he didn't want to hear.

"I believe Mr. Castanos has already struck." She put down the paper and removed her glasses. "A body has been found not quite ten kilometers from here."

After exchanging a look with Giorgio, Matt hung his head and rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"It is the opinion of the Secretary that you proceed with your investigation."

"Yes ma'am." Matt got to his feet.

"I wish you the best of luck, gentlemen. Your escort is awaiting you outside." Putting her glasses back on, Courtney-Smythe dismissed them.

Although they exchanged a glance in the elevator on the way down, the pair waited until they were in the back seat of a police car to speak to one another. "Why do I just feel like I came out of the principal's office?"

"It was rather like a disciplinary hearing."

"You know what really chaps my ass?" The cowboy looked out the window, now not caring if their driver heard them or not. "They've had the alert since when – Rome? But it's our fault that he wasn't intercepted? Bull. Think of all the surveillance cameras they have up around this city."

"I believe we are the scape goats, no?"

"And there you go with the phrases."

"You have already used the "chaps my ass" phrase."

"So is this gonna be a pissing contest?" It was out of the cowboy's mouth before he realized what he had done and the Greek broke into a loud fit of laughter much to the surprise of their driver.

All laughter disappeared when they got to the crime scene at Millennium Park. Dawn's first rays were beginning to creep across the sweep of green lawn as they approached the area cordoned off with crime scene tape. On a bridge that crossed to a small island near the center of the park there was what was left of what they could only assume was Castanos' latest victim. "Oh my God…" Matt stopped in his tracks as they were within a few feet, his knees giving way. Tracy Michaelson's remains, the body of her husband Danny suspended from the bannister in their home, the scenes from Corfu, Rome, and Paris all came back to him at once and he closed his eyes. Stavros stood speechless, terrified at what he was seeing but unable to move or even blink. Two officers were standing a few feet away, one that looked like he had been on the job a long time was wiping away tears.

Forcing himself, Houston stood back up, his legs shaking, and opened his eyes. _Where is God?_ He had wondered the same thing before in Iraq and now found himself asking again. "He…he took her teeth…" How in the hell would they be able to identify her – get her back to her family? DNA was the only answer that came to his mind. But in order for that to work they needed something to compare it against.

All of Castanos victims had been destroyed but this one was the worst by far. There was no purse nearby, no ID lying around, nothing except for what the madman had wanted them to find: the victim. Taking a deep breath he edged in closer and the anger that rolled through his body left him shaking even more. Not only had he left the pentagram and Tree of Life symbol but also words written with the victim's blood:

_MY MASTER COMMANDS IT_

They spent the next two hours scouring the scene as officers kept curious onlookers out of the park. Three detectives from the local police were there and all three, although working the scene methodically, were visibly shaken. No one who saw the brutality was unaffected.

As they boarded the car headed for a hotel where they could try to fit the pieces of the puzzle together as best they could, a call came over the radio that officers had spotted the suspect and had him cornered in someone's garden on Carr Street. The officer driving rushed to the address as did officers from all over the area only to find another grisly scene awaiting them: all three of the officers who had tried to detain Castanos were dead, stacked in a gruesome pile with a note pinned to the chest of the officer on top with a knife that was literally dripping with blood.

The officers spread out to search the area and the two friends joined up with their driver to help, another three hours spent in vain. The driver, who had since introduced himself as Constable Gavin O'Dowd, was as shocked as his new partners, and when the call came across his radio that Stavros and Houston were wanted back at the Carr Street address they hurriedly jogged back. Inspector Charles Hewitt was standing by with a crime scene tech. The knife had been removed from the officer and the bodies carried off to the Medical Examiner but the note was still on the scene encased in plastic. Hewitt spoke after O'Dowd introduced them. "I have been instructed to cooperate with your investigation; I believe this was left for you gentlemen."

Leaning forward the two friends read what was written on the paper.

MY MASTER HAS SENT ME TO SEEK OUT THE SOUL OF MAN IN THE BODY OF WOMAN. IT IS ILL-ADVISED TO INTERFERE IN THE MATTERS OF GODS. THROUGH THE GOODNESS OF MY MASTER VELES, MASTER OF THE UNDERWORLD, I HAVE BEEN CHOSEN TO TAKE ON THIS QUEST AND AM IMMORTAL. IF YOU WISH TO CHALLENGE AND DIE, MEET ME WHERE THE SETTING SUN MEETS THE SEA. GO WEST, YOUNG MAN.

CASTANOS

"The son of a bitch is inviting us…" Houston shook once again with anger. "Go west, young man. He's going to the States." Turning to the reporter and the driver he spoke again. "We need to get to the airport – and get the first flight out to the US."

"But where in the US?" Stavros followed along in his wake as did the driver.

"We'll figure that out on the way." The private investigator slid into the front seat of the patrol car, O'Dowd jogging to the driver's side. "Can we charter a jet out of City Airport?"

"I believe so, sir." O'Dowd hit the siren, making his way through the traffic and to the airport, escorting the pair inside to see about a charter flight. After making the arrangements and paying up front, Matt turned to the officer. "O'Dowd – thank you. I really appreciate your hard work – and the fact that you didn't treat us like we were crazy."

"My honor, sir. Please…" He swallowed and shook his head. "Be careful. The man is obviously insane."

"Thanks." Matt shook with him and the travelers were told that it would be an hour before they would be able to leave. "I'm starved – let's grab a burger." They found their way to one of the restaurants and ordered, Matt preferring to stick to water as did his companion. After plowing through the meal they went back and were allowed aboard the jet. "Hmmm…" The cowboy was forced to duck as he entered the craft, its interior height the same six feet three inches as his frame.

"I fear you will not be able to pace as you think on this flight." Stavros, who was several inches shorter chuckled as they sat down at a table facing each other.

"Guess you'll have to do it." Matt let out a tired sigh. "Okay, once we're in the air I'm gonna call…" He was interrupted as his phone rang, the look on his face one of annoyance. "Yes sir?"

"Son, what in the hell are you doing chartering a jet?!" Bill Houston was in the backseat of his limousine headed to his office at 6:00AM Houston time. "Do you have any idea how much this little trip of yours is costing Houston Oil?"

"I'll pay it whatever it is, Daddy. The guy we're chasing is on the way to the US."

"Well, how convenient – will you be stopping by for dinner?!" The sarcastic remark, so unlike the elder Houston, gave Matt a full idea of just what CJ had been talking about.

"Daddy, I'm sorry. He's…this guy is nuts. We've got to stop him before he kills again."

"And what if he tries to kill you, son? Have you given that any thought? I went through four years of hell when you were in the Army. You're supposed to be home and safe now." There was a catch in Bill's voice and for the first time Matt noticed that he was beginning to sound older.

"Daddy…" He didn't know what to say. Obviously Castanos wanted him dead or he wouldn't have invited him to continue the chase. "I'll be working with the police."

"Mattlock, you're supposed to be working for Houston Oil…unless you've changed your mind?" The silence on the other end of the line was a shock to Bill. "Have you?" The tone was quieter.

"We need to talk." Rubbing his eyes, the younger man could tell that his dad was hurt. The steward approached and asked him to end the call. "Daddy, I've got to go now – we're about to take off. I'll be home as soon as I can – I promise." He paused. "I love you, Daddy."

"I love you, too, son. Just…be careful, okay? I didn't wait four years to get you home safe for some maniac to hurt you."

"Yes sir, I know. Gotta go. 'Bye." He disconnected the call and buckled his seatbelt, the feeling of tears coming to his eyes as he put his head in his hands.

"You have much going on in your life right now." The American nodded his head but didn't speak as the jet taxied to the runway. "It is hard to go against the wishes of one's parents. My father had plans for me to run the family vineyard. When I expressed interest in journalism he was very, very angry. It took a while for him to understand that running a business while my heart wasn't in it was not the way to live."

The voice that responded was very subdued. "How long did it take for you two to get along again?"

"A few years." Nodding Matt leaned back in the seat his eyes closed as the plane began takeoff. "What of your other family members?"

"There's only Daddy and me – unless you count my Uncle Roy…his son Will…" He stopped, immediately choked up. "Will and I were in the same unit for a while…he was taken prisoner."

"Do you think he's alive?"

"I don't think so…I just don't know for sure." The steward approached again offering drinks and Matt again chose water. "Okay, let me call CJ again." He dialed her number and it went to voice mail. "Maybe she's driving."

"We have seven hours ahead of us…"Giorgio took a sip of the coffee.

"Yeah…" Matt found himself dozing off, thinking of CJ when his phone rang, snapping him back to reality. "Hey…"

"Has anything else happened since he struck in London?" The tone of her voice gave away the fact that something had taken place on her end of the line.

"No…but what's going on there?"

"Bill, uh…" She paused and Matt heard her sob, his heart aching at the sound. "Bill found out that I've been helping you."

"And he's pissed?"

"Very much so. He told me that he talked to you on the way in and that you seemed to be thinking about leaving the company. Guess I must have looked guilty."

"And you told him…"

"I can't lie to him, Houston – he's my dad, too – sort of." The sobs started again.

"What did he say?"

She paused. Bill's exact words had been "Good, maybe you two will finally get married. Something good needs to come from all of this." _No way am I gonna tell him that,_ she thought to herself. "He wasn't exactly happy…" Stopping at a light, she blew her nose.

"I'm sorry that you're being put in the middle of this, hon."

"So what now? Do we need to look up something else?"

"Yeah…" He told her part of what had happened but didn't go into great detail about the victim, instead giving her the information that had been in the note.

"You're kidding me…this guy is…oh my, God."

"Do you understand now why I have to catch him?"

"Yeah, I just don't want it to be you…I'm scared that you'll get hurt again."

"Maybe if we can figure out where he's planning on hitting it can cut down on the danger for everybody. He said where the setting sun meets the sea – go west. Where the setting sun meets the sea sounds like California."

"It does…so how do we do this? Look at the ships again?"

"Yeah, get on your computer…"

"It's going to be a few minutes…Bill told me to just go home." Her voice broke into a sob again.

"Damn it! Why in the hell has he got to be so God damn pigheaded?" Houston slapped at the table with his hand causing Stavros to jump. He calmed back down after a minute. "I'm sorry, CJ – I never intended for all of this to land on you."

"It's just as well – I can't concentrate on anything else right now. Give me about five minutes and I'll be home. Can I do it from my laptop?"

"Sure…call me back when you're ready. And CJ…" He paused, so close to saying it but still too afraid. "I'm sorry."

"That makes two of us. Call you in a few." She hung up, wiping at her eyes as she drew nearer her apartment. Stopped at another traffic light the young lawyer looked at herself in the rearview mirror; she had dark circles beginning to show under her eyes and her makeup was a mess. A small laugh escaped her as she thought back to when she had first started wearing makeup at thirteen and Matt had been against it. "_You don't need it – you're already pretty without the war paint."_ Smiling she thought about how he had argued against it the whole time they were working on her uncle's ranch that morning and how the sweat the work raised had made the eyeliner start to run – much like the tears she had been crying that morning. "So much for waterproof makeup; maybe he was right…war paint." Sighing she turned onto her street and parked outside the townhome that she was renting, thinking to herself that she might have a roommate shortly if Matt and his dad couldn't reach a civilized agreement. But the thought of him in such close quarters made her heart leap. Why couldn't she just tell him? For the same reason she had never been able to in the last sixteen years – because it would change everything.

The first stop inside the apartment was the bathroom – the makeup came off and she went into her bedroom, pulling out a hoodie that Matt had given to her when he was in the Army – the Screaming Eagle logo of the 101st Airborne emblazoned across the front. It was a wonder the shirt wasn't worn out; she had slept in it almost every night since he had given it to her, trying to find a way to keep him close to her and make her feel safe. A pair of jeans completed the outfit and she put a pot of coffee on as the laptop began the process of booting up. She called him back, knowing as soon as he answered that he had been asleep. "Okay, I guess I'm ready. I'll do my best not to screw it up this time."

"CJ, things like that happen; don't worry about it." He took a sip of coffee from the fresh cup that the steward had just brought to him. "One thing about it – we'll be there before him this time. A Gulfstream travels a hell of a lot faster than a cargo ship."

"Assuming he's on a cargo ship."

"There's my lawyer." The chuckle that followed made her feel better. "Alright, let's get you bounced off a few proxy servers."

"Is it okay if I write this down? Just in case I have to do it again sometime?"

There was another laugh on the line. "CJ, I've got a feeling you'll be able to do this in your sleep before long – Lord knows I've done it enough. Okay, are you ready?" When she assured him she was, he began slowly giving her the instructions and she wrote them down, then followed each one on the laptop.

"So let me see here – I am now in Ottawa, Canada."

"Yep."

"This is kinda fun. So now we need to go back to the shipping line and look again like before, right?"

"Yep." He smiled behind the coffee cup. Although she had no idea, the lawyer had caught right on to the process and Matt was proud of her. Their working together like this seemed perfect to him – it felt right. Maybe…just maybe it would lead to a partnership of another kind…the kind that he had been dreaming of when she woke him up.


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9**

The young lawyer stood waiting at the William P. Hobby Airport in Houston, Texas and watched as the Gulfstream landed smoothly. Within a couple of minutes she saw Houston exiting the plane along with a man that she figured to be the reporter he had told her about. After shaking hands with the plane's crew he made his way across the tarmac, the tired and serious look on his face being replaced by a big smile when he saw her there. When he was a few feet away her control snapped and she ran to him, throwing her arms around his middle as he dropped the suitcase on the ground, picking her up in a big bear hug. Stavros watched the pair and smiled: no matter what the American told him he knew it was just a matter of time before the two would come to their senses. "Look at you, girl." Matt set her back down on her feet, taking both of her hands in his and smiling approvingly at the hoodie, jeans, and boots that she wore. "And no war paint." His laugh was infectious and they hugged again. "'Scuse my lack of manners; Giorgio Stavros meet CJ Parsons."

"I am most honored." He shook the offered hand. "She is even lovelier in person." He realized then that he had made a mistake: he hadn't wanted the young man to know that he had seen the picture of her in his hand while he slept. The realization crept across Houston's face and he blushed, momentarily speechless.

"Mr. Stavros, thank you for bailing him out in Corfu." CJ was surprised that Matt had shown a picture of her but the knowledge that he had excited her beyond measure.

"No, no…like I explained to our friend here – I am Giorgio. Mr. Stavros was my father. Please do not make me feel older than the last few days already have me feeling."

All three laughed and then Houston picked up his bag, his free arm encircling CJ's waist as they went to the car. His expression turned serious once again. "Does Daddy know that I'm here?"

"He does – I thought it best not to leave him out anymore…it won't help the situation between you two."

Nodding, he slid into the passenger seat after putting the bags in the trunk. "Well…" Pausing for a minute he was trying to decide what to do. "I guess…let's go to the ranch. Did you bring your laptop?"

"Uh huh – I thought you might want to try to go home." She looked over at her best friend. "I really think you should."

"Yeah, you're probably right; you usually are."

"Since when?" She was half-joking.

"Since the day we met." Something in the tone of his voice caused her to look at him. Was she imagining it…she had to be. Gluing her eyes to the road, she listened as Matt pointed out different areas to Stavros along their route and when they finally pulled to a stop in front of the Houston residence it was obvious that the Greek hadn't been expecting such a lavish home. The front door was opened by the housekeeper who had worked for the Houstons since they moved there when Matt was five. "And this pretty lady here is Madre Rosa." He pulled the tiny woman into a huge hug. Wiping away tears she greeted their guest and all four went inside.

"Matt, may I speak to you for a moment, please – privately?" She took him by the hand, dragging him back to the kitchen, the cowboy having a feeling as to what he was about to hear. "You…" She started in like he had just gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar as he had many times as a boy, obviously upset with him and then she stopped and gathered her thoughts. "Señor Bill has been very upset since you left."

"Yes ma'am, I talked to him again this morning."

"He…he is worried that you are leaving us." She saw the expression on his face and began crying. "And you are."

"Come here…" He pulled her into another hug and had her take a seat at the kitchen table, kneeling in front of her, both of her hands in his. "Look…I'm…" Sighing he looked for the right words. "Madre Rosa, I'm not a kid anymore. I need to do things on my own, not be in Daddy's shadow where folks think I'm only there because I'm his son."

"What better reason for you to be there?"

"Daddy and I don't agree with how some things should be done in the business. I'm not going to change my mind on them and he's upset. Plus, there are other things I want to do…"

"But you don't have to leave…"

"Yes ma'am, I do. I…I've got something to prove; not just to Daddy and the rest of the world but to myself, too."

"I'm afraid it will be the death of him. He's your father…"

"Look, calm down – okay? We're going to have a talk. Let's just see how that goes, okay?" He reached up and wiped the tears away from the face of the woman who had been the closest thing to a mother that he had ever known.

Shaking her head she stood up, looking down at him disapprovingly. "You have changed…too much, _hijo_."

"No ma'am…I just grew up." He stood, kissing her on the cheek before going back into the den where CJ and Stavros were now talking over what they had so far on the case. Although she gave him a questioning look, CJ didn't ask what had been said. She was pretty sure what it was and knew that the battle her friend was waging inside was almost as tough as the one he was waging with Emil Castanos.

After another hour, the private investigator was pacing across the den. "So we've narrowed it down to two ships. If we could get the Coast Guard to intercept them…"

"That could be tricky to pull off."

"Not to mention that these vessels are very large – it would take considerable time to fully search one, let alone two." Giorgio leaned back on the sofa.

CJ looked up, an expression of surprise on her face and Matt turned to find Bill standing in the doorway of the den. "You're home early." He crossed the room.

"You're home." Bill had a stubborn expression on his face and his tone was cold, something that Matt had never experienced before and he stopped in his tracks.

"Yes sir."

"Are you going to introduce our guest?"

"I'd like you to meet Giorgio Stavros. Giorgio, my father – Bill Houston." He watched as the two shook hands.

"Mr. Stavros, thank you for helping Matt out in Corfu."

"It was simply a misunderstanding." The reporter sensed the tension between the two men.

"Giorgio, would you like to take a walk? Maybe go down to the barn and see the horses?" CJ stood.

"I would be most honored." He allowed the lawyer to take him by the arm and lead him through the house and out through the kitchen.

"I missed you, Daddy."

"Did you?" Bill went over to the black leather recliner in the corner, taking off his jacket and loosening his tie.

"Yes sir."

"So what exactly is your plan for this madman – what's his name?"

"Emil Castanos. We've narrowed down the possible entry points to two: San Diego or San Francisco."

"And how did you accomplish that?" The elder Houston sat down in the recliner.

"Well sir…it's…well, it's kind of complicated. We did some tracking on the computer and found out which of his ships are en route to California: both of them left London about the same time."

"I see…" He let the conversation drop and looked at the man in front of him. "So what are your plans – after you catch this Castanos fellow of course?"

"Well…" Matt walked over to the mantle and looked at the logs in the fireplace. "Daddy, I'm leaving Houston."

"For what?"

"I'm going out on my own…I need to…"

"You need to leave the company that I've been building since you were a baby…the company that is going to be yours someday."

"I'm leaving Houston Oil and Houston." Turning back to look his father in the eye, he looked down at the man.

"And your reasons would be…?"

"There are a few. We don't agree about offshore drilling for starters."

Waving his hand in dismissal, Bill shook his head. "We've been through this before, Matt. Just because…"

"Daddy, I don't believe in them."

"Okay, so you don't have to work on the Offshore Program. There – will you stay now?"

"No sir." Swallowing hard, he tried to find the right words. "People at Houston Oil think the only reason that I'm there is because of my name – not because of my knowledge or experience. It's hard to work with folks who don't respect you."

"Some of them don't know you – you've been gone for four years."

"I've known some of them practically my whole life."

"Who cares what they think?"

"I do."

"Is that the best reason you can give me?"

"No sir. I want to open a private detective agency."

"Oh, so now we're getting down to the real reason. Son, didn't you get enough cloak and dagger spy experience in the Army?"

"I want to help people."

"You can help people by giving them a place to work at Houston Oil."

"Daddy, you remember how it was after…" He stopped. Although the law enforcement in Lubbock had tried to catch the men who had kidnapped him, their resources and time were limited. The two men had never been caught. "After the kidnapping. We needed help and there was no one who could handle the job."

"That isn't fair to the police, son. They did everything that they could do."

"Yes, they did; but I can do more now."

"Just because you can find a ship on the computer…"

"So by minimalizing what I want to do – you think that will make me want to stay?" Matt's voice was very quiet, just above a whisper. "How can I get respect from the other employees at Houston Oil if the president – my own father – doesn't respect me?"

"It isn't a matter of respect."

"It is to me."

"You're being pigheaded."

"No sir." He watched as the anger flared in his father's eyes. "Daddy, would you want to stay in a job, working day after day on something that you knew was wrong, something that you were morally against just to make someone else happy?"

"Oh, so now it's morally wrong. When did you get such high moral principles?"

"Since I grew up with a man that I've always been proud to call my father, a man who always told me to stand up for what I believed in no matter what; does all that fly out the window because my beliefs are different than yours?"

"Son…" Bill stood up and approached the younger man. "Look…take a couple of months and try the detective deal. You can have an office at Houston Oil…"

"No sir."

"Where then?"

"California."

"California? Have you lost your mind?!"

"No sir." Swallowing hard again, Matt spoke. "I need to put some space between Texas and me…go somewhere where nobody knows about me or Houston Oil, somewhere that I can make a fresh start."

"You're really serious about this, are you?"

"Yes sir."

"And what happens if it doesn't work out? Then what?"

"It will work out."

"You're being immature."

"No sir. I've grown up. It's time for me to make a difference in this world, not just coast along on the Houston Oil gravy train."

"And how do you plan to finance this little venture?"

"I've got my stocks, savings…"

"And?"

"And the will to make it work…and somebody who believes in me who's willing to help me with my dream."

"CJ."

"Yes sir."

"Planning on marrying her?"

"Would you give it a rest?" The younger man turned and walked across the room and stood facing the trophy case that had been expanded year by year of his life. Baseball, football, rodeo…everything he had ever competed in as a child and into his young adult years.

"You better not dally with her, boy."

Spinning around the fire was now flashing in Matt's eyes. "How can you even say that?"

"You have quite a reputation among the women in Houston…didn't you think I've always heard the talk?"

"Daddy, we're talking about CJ…not just some…" He shook his head.

"Exactly…you need to put a ring on her finger and marry her."

"That's none of your business." There he had said it and oh, what he had said.

"I'll not have you treating her like one of your…"

"Don't say it…" The younger man crossed the room quickly and stood staring at the man who had raised him.

"That girl is like a daughter to me…" Bill's voice shook with anger.

"Do you honestly think I would _ever_ do anything to hurt her? Daddy, she's…" He found his hands beginning to shake. "How could you even think that? And still say you have respect for me?"

"Matt…"

"Daddy, I'm leaving as soon as I can find a place. I need to do this. I love you."

"You've got a damn funny way of showing it." Bill picked his jacket back up and put it on. "Something happened to you, boy. I don't even know who you are anymore."

"I'm still me, Daddy; I've just grown up." He watched as Bill stalked out of the room, heard the front door slam, and then a car start up and go down the driveway. The silence in the house seemed incredibly loud as did the beating of his heart. Crossing to the opposite side of the room he picked up a decanter full of bourbon, removing the stopper and grabbing a glass…and stopped. "No." He replaced the stopper and set the bottle back down, a flood of doubt momentarily going through his veins. "No…I'm going to do this…and I'm going to do it right." Turning he went out of the house and down to the barn to join CJ and Giorgio.


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10**

_**December 18, 2005…**_

"All set?" Houston closed the trunk on CJ's car after loading the luggage.

"I guess so…" She was nervous; anybody in their right mind would be considering the circumstances of the trip. They pulled out of the driveway of the Houston home and headed to the airport to catch a commercial flight out to San Diego. Matt had already been in contact with not only INTERPOL, but through them the San Diego Police Department. News of Castanos was worldwide now and after another conversation with his editor in Corfu, Giorgio had reason to breathe a sigh of relief: the threat of termination was no longer there. But the demand for an exclusive on the man that he was working with was their price. Since the pair had left the island in Greece, the police department had been under scrutiny and naturally the newspaper wanted to play up their part in finding the truth. Stavros, however, hadn't mentioned the proposal yet. Houston knew that he was along for the story - the reporter had made that clear up front; but the young man from Texas didn't like the limelight that had been shining on him since the press conference in Rome. He wasn't interested in publicity - only justice. Knowing the problems the American was already dealing with the reporter was reluctant to speak with him about the editor's demands.

Seated on the Boeing 757, CJ was between the two men. She had found Giorgio to be quite charming and during their visit to the barn the night before, very concerned about Houston. Although he didn't go into detail, CJ knew that he was aware of some of the problems that the Texan had been dealing with since his discharge. She thought that Matt had been right to trust him and knew that his instincts were usually right. As they taxied to the runway the three looked at each other, all with a nervous smile. When they were airborne for the almost three hour flight, CJ watched her best friend, knowing that not only was he considering the Castanos case but his conversation with Bill the night before. The elder Houston had returned around midnight and wouldn't even speak to his son. Matt had spent most of the night in his room sorting through some of the items, deciding what he would be taking when he moved to California and what he would put into storage.

"Maybe you should try to get in a nap." CJ's voice cut through his thoughts. "You look tired, pal."

"Didn't sleep last night."

"Bill?"

"He won't even talk to me, CJ." She heard the catch in his voice and reached for his hand.

"It'll be okay…he'll come to his senses." Squeezing, she watched as he nodded, seeing tears in his eyes before he closed them and tilted his head back. The thought of what Bill was putting Matt through, fully knowing all that he had already been through in his twenty six years, made her mad beyond belief. She had fully expected him to be upset but nothing to that degree. Maybe he just needed a little time to cool down. She looked at Matt again and could see his body starting to relax as sleep took hold of him, but his hand stayed firmly gripping hers for the next three hours.

"Mr. Houston?" A detective with the San Diego Police Department was waiting for them at the luggage claim and showed his badge. "Detective Desmond Long, SDPD." The African-American shook with Matt who in turn introduced the other two with him. "Pleasure to meet you. The captain has asked for you to meet with him."

"Sure." Matt picked up CJ's luggage as well as his own and the three followed the cop out to his car, Stavros and CJ getting into the back as Matt slid into the front. "So…have y'all heard anything else?"

"No sir. There hasn't been any cooperation from the Croatian Embassy in Washington. They deny any knowledge of Castanos' whereabouts."

"Well…" The private investigator looked out the passenger window and gave a chuckle. "I seriously doubt that he called 'em up and said he was planning a visit."

"No sir." The cop grinned.

"And you don't need to sir me – I'm Houston."

"Alright then – just call me Desmond."

"Fair enough." They were quiet a moment. "Desmond, can I ask you a question and get an honest answer?"

"As best as I can, yeah."

"Are they taking this seriously? They don't think we're crazy for being here?"

"No, they're taking it very seriously. Everybody has heard what Castanos has done…all over the world. And we know that you've been on his trail." He looked over at the PI who nodded. "Why?"

"Did you hear about our visit to Portugal?"

"He didn't show up there but at least you warned them of the possibility…you would think they would be happy that you were wrong."

"The folks in London weren't real thrilled either."

Long shook his head. "I don't see any reason for it. Here we are." He pulled into the parking lot of the department's headquarters on Broadway, getting them visitor's passes and taking them up to the third floor conference room. "Captain Rodriquez should be here in just a few minutes." All four grabbed a cup of coffee and Matt sat down, opening up his laptop to check on the progress of the container ship that they suspected the murderer to be on. He looked up as the door opened.

"Good morning." Captain Emilio Rodriquez entered the room. "First off, please let me thank you for giving us a head's up about Castanos. I've been following the case…never dreamed he would come to the US." He shook hands with the three visitors. "Please – have a seat. Can you give me an update?"

"Yes sir." Matt turned the laptop and showed him the current location of the vessel. "According to my research it can take four weeks to make the haul from London to San Diego; I've been calculating their speed and they seem to be sticking to that…but since it's a panamax class it won't be traveling like a Ferrari."

"I'd say not. How big is the ship?"

The PI pulled up an image of one. "She's about 1200 feet long, 140 feet wide, with a draft of a little less than 40 feet – she can make the Panama Canal."

"What are the onboard capabilities?"

"Well, the cruising speed is about twenty five knots. But…" He turned the laptop back and hit a few keystrokes. "She's also got all the computerized bells and whistles."

"And how will that influence our problem?" He watched as the private investigator turned the laptop back to him, saying nothing. "Is that…"

"That's exactly what the captain is seeing at the helm."

"You've tapped into their computer?" Rodriquez looked amazed.

"Yes sir."

"How?"

"Very carefully." Matt's face didn't change in the least – he was still just as serious as he had been.

"Uh huh…well…" Rodriquez leaned back and took a sip of coffee. "If he is on the ship we won't be able to search it until it's docked in port."

"Yes sir."

"We can have it quarantined, if you will…" He chewed over the information. "I've got a young lady here that I think will be very useful on this case. Detective Long?"

"Sir?"

"Would you call up to CSI and have Shari Martinique come join us?"

"Yes sir." The cop removed his phone and made a call, nodding to the captain as he hung up. "She's on her way."

"Excellent. Well…you said it takes about four weeks. I don't expect that we'll be seeing Mr. Castanos too much before that estimate. Thanks to your hard work we have a head start on him."

"I just…I have a personal stake in this, sir." Matt's demeanor changed slightly.

"I read that." Rodriquez finished his coffee. "I'd say you're highly motivated, highly skilled…and highly ready to take his ass down."

"Yes sir."

"We'll most likely be dealing with the feds on this…they kind of don't like it when murderers try to cross the border." He gave the group a smile. "You meet with Martinique…" The captain stood as did the others. "Get together on this. I expect we'll be seeing a good bit of each other over the next four weeks, Mr. Houston."

"Just call me Houston." Matt held out his hand.

"Roddy." They shook. "I'll stay in contact with you through Detective Long here. Let us know if you need anything…and thanks again."

"Thank you." Breathing a sigh of relief Houston sat back down at the table, noticing the look on CJ's face. "You okay?"

"Yeah…I just." She shook her head and smiled. "I'll tell you later."

Twenty minutes later they were joined by CSI Shari Martinique who, when she sat down next to Houston and listened to what he had, seemed thoroughly impressed. After arranging to share the data, she left and Detective Long ushered them out of the building.

"So where will you be staying?" He pulled out his keys.

"Well…I don't know." Houston looked at his companions who shrugged. "Would you like to recommend some place?"

"I can. C'mon." Smiling he drove them to a beach side home on Cape May Avenue that was less than a block from Dog Beach. "Hope you like dogs." He put the car into park.

"Who does it belong to?" CJ was looking out the passenger window.

"The captain – he knew you were going to be here for a while – thought you might like to use it."

"Wow…" Matt got out and opened the door for CJ and Stavros. "This is great."

"I had a feeling you would like it." Helping to carry the luggage, Long pulled out a set of keys and went up to the front door, unlocking it and turning off the alarm inside. "Here's the alarm information...and the keys."

"This is…I can't believe it." Houston was speechless.

"Another reason to love America!" Stavros was looking all around as the group cracked up.

"Can I ask for a favor?" Houston looked at the cop.

"Sure."

"I need to rent some wheels."

"Not a problem. I'll give you a ride."

"Think you can keep the Greek out of trouble while I'm gone?" He gave CJ a lopsided grin, the one that she absolutely adored.

"I think we'll be just fine." She gave him a peck on the cheek and he left with the cop. Once they were gone she and Giorgio took a look through the house. "This is so nice!"

"Are all police officers in the US so friendly?"

"No."

"That was a very quick response."

"It's a truthful one…but I'm so glad that they're cooperative here. The last thing Houston needs right now is more problems."

"His father is very upset." He watched as CJ nodded and could tell that she was just as upset. "So what does the future hold for our friend?"

"That's a good question. I'm not sure." Sighing, she sat down on the sofa.

A while later Matt pulled up outside in an SUV and began unloading groceries. "Hope you like Mexican food." He gave their Greek friend a big smile.

"I am Greek – I love all food…except for escargot. I have no idea why anyone would want to eat a snail." All three cracked up and after putting the food away, changed clothes and went for a walk on the beach, then back to the house where Matt started into the kitchen but was stopped by the lawyer.

"Nope…"

"Is there a problem?"

"Not as long as you take your butt in there and kick back for a while – I've got supper covered tonight."

"Are you sure?"

"Do I look like I'm not?"

"No ma'am. I'll just come in here and start channel surfing I guess." With a chuckle he went into the den where he was joined by Stavros. The two sat down and began watching a football game, Matt explaining the rules as the game progressed. A while later CJ called them to the kitchen where she had fixed the cowboy's favorite meal – beef fajitas. The emotions that crossed his face might have been hard for someone else to read but not for her. The first was surprise, then sadness, and then finally he gave her a smile. "Smells great, hon." They sat down and by the time the meal was over, Giorgio was in love with yet another food.

Later on, CJ took Houston by the hand and they went back to the beach leaving their shoes behind as they walked along the water's edge and watched as dogs and their owners romped in the sand and surf. "Thanks for supper." Wrapping an arm around her, they continued on.

"You're very welcome."

"So what was with the look this afternoon?" He glanced up and ducked just in time to avoid getting hit by a Frisbee, laughing as a dog ran past and jumped into the air retrieving it.

"I was just thinking…" She smiled. "The day we met you introduced yourself as "Houston – Matt Houston." Today you sounded more like Bond - James Bond." Laughing she looked up at him.

"Did I now?"

"Uh huh. You know, you're…you've changed. You were always the jock, the popular guy…now you're more like…I don't know…a hacker." The look on his face showed uncertainty. "I don't mean that in a bad way…it just wasn't what I expected. Of course after you had me bouncing off of proxy servers all over the world there shouldn't have been too much surprise. It's just…you're so…adult." They stopped and looked out over the waves.

"I wish Daddy would believe that." The hurt in his voice was unmistakable and he felt her arm tighten around his waist. "I can't believe he won't even talk to me, CJ. You would think that I'm the one who's been murdering folks all over the world – not Castanos."

"It's going to take time. He'll come around."

"Have you tried to talk to him?"

"He called me this morning." Looking back out over the waves she thought about the conversation.

"Let me guess: it centered around "Don't let him get you in bed."" She looked up at him in shock. "It did – didn't it?"

"I…" She stopped.

"For some reason he thinks that I'm going to try to do something to hurt you; never mind the fact that…" Shaking his head he started walking again and she caught up with him after a moment of stunned silence.

"Just so you know, I told him I'm a big girl now and quite capable of making up my own mind."

"No you didn't."

"Yep…"

"Didn't believe you either, did he?"

"I'm not sure…" The exchanged a look and both laughed deciding to turn back toward the house, entering to find Giorgio still watching football and yelling at the referee.

The next few days fell into a pattern: the three monitored the progress of both ships, and Matt and Stavros made a trip to San Francisco to speak to the police there along with Captain Rodriquez. Although they were polite, the PI got the "Portugal" feeling as he later described it to CJ.

"You need a break." CJ walked up behind Houston where he sat at the kitchen table staring at the laptop. Beginning at the base of his neck she started kneading the over-taut muscles up to the base of his skull and then back down. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting her continue and realizing for the first time how tense he really was. She continued on for a minute and then suddenly snapped his neck to the left, the loud pop sounding to his ears like a gun going off and instantly the headache that had been dogging him for several days was gone. "Better?"

"Uh huh..." He was afraid to move for a minute and then began slowly turning his head from side to side. "How did you...wow. Thanks."

"You're welcome. Let's go for a walk – we need to talk."

"Okay." Closing the laptop he followed her out onto the street, wrapping an arm around her as they went out on the beach and began walking southward. "Is something wrong?"

"I've been thinking...today is the twenty third."

"Yep." He had a feeling he knew where the conversation was going.

"Maybe...maybe we should go back to Houston for Christmas." Her comment was met with silence and she looked up at him.

"I don't think he wants me there, CJ. You can go if you want."

"Don't you think you should try to talk to him?"

"I have."

"I mean since that night."

"I have." He looked down at her and the shock on her face. "He won't answer my calls to his cell phone or at the office. I've talked to Madre Rosa and she says he's just..." Shrugging he looked out to sea. "He's still pissed. She's pretty pissed, too, but at least she'll talk to me."

"But maybe if you went home, tried to talk to him in person..."

"No."

"I think you're both being stubborn."

"We probably are...but I've made an effort, CJ: he hasn't." There was hurt in his voice. "You know I've missed Christmas the last four years...really didn't even celebrate it. I opened the packages that y'all sent but...well, it just isn't the same. I would have rather been there with no packages than to be where I was. Now this year that I could actually be there..." Matt shook his head. "He doesn't want me around right now." He stopped and turned to face her. "But I've got a feeling if you showed up he wouldn't have a problem with it."

"Not without you."

"I'm not going." They began walking again.

"Okay, so I guess we'll be here then." Continuing on down the beach she approached another subject. "Please don't think I'm being nosy here, Houston, but as a lawyer – your lawyer – how are you planning on financing your business when we're done with Castanos. You never really said."

"I've got some savings, some stocks..." He had been thinking about it as well.

"Okay...I know you want to open a detective agency...but do you think you can make enough at it to be able to continue? There are probably a lot of private investigators in this state."

"I would think so – if TV is any indication." They both laughed.

"You do have a business degree..." He nodded. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that you haven't really laid out a plan. I'm a lawyer – we kinda feel naked without a plan." She saw the lopsided grin that she loved steal across his face.

"I'm working on it."

_**Present day...**_

"Our time waiting in San Diego seemed like it was taking forever. Both of the ships were sticking to their courses, plodding along just as if there wasn't a murderer aboard. At that point we still weren't sure if he would hit San Diego or San Francisco...there wasn't any intel either way but my gut feeling was San Diego. Both were on the west coast but to me San Francisco just brought to mind images of fog – not sunshine. Officials in both cities were on alert and we were already settled in so it just seemed like a wise move to stay put and keep tabs on the progress of both freighters."

"I would like to pose a personal question now." Giorgio had pretty well let Matt have free run of the interview, only prompting him on occasion to keep the flow of the story going. To anyone else it would seem that it had been planned but both men knew the story first hand and it made it much simpler and more natural.

"Oh boy..." The smile that crossed the cowboy's face was a contrast to the seriousness that had been in place for the last few hours. "Bet I know what it is, too."

"I'm sure you do." Stavros gave a chuckle. "Our viewers probably know you as a very wealthy man; you came from your father's home with a considerable amount of money. But to take what you went out on your own with and to multiply it into what you have now – that took some skill."

"It did...but the beginnings were pure luck." Matt now had a mischievous smile on his face. "I took a couple of days while we were waiting on Castanos and made a little side trip to the state of Nevada...Las Vegas to be exact." He took a sip of the tea that he had brought back out with him, slowly spinning the glass in his hand. "Looking back on it now, I guess it was crazy. But the more I thought about what I had in mind for my future, the more I knew that it was going to take more money than I had to fulfill that dream. So..." The smile got even bigger as he chuckled. "I took a flight to Vegas the day after Christmas and by the time I got back to San Diego on New Year's Eve I was officially a millionaire – times sixty."

"Had you ever gambled like that before?"

"No, and I haven't since – not seriously. I like a good poker game now and then but it's just for fun or bragging rights. But right then it was more a matter of sink or swim. If it hadn't been for that win I wouldn't have been able to do what I've done since that time." He took a sip. "But...let me say to anyone out there that is thinking that's the way to go...be sure you're ready for the consequences of losing. If I had lost..." Shaking his head, he looked down at the tea and then back up at Stavros. "I would have still opened the detective agency but I wouldn't have been able to help as many folks as I have over the years."

"And helping people was the main purpose of your agency, is that right?"

"It was – and still is, although I haven't really taken many private cases the last year or so."

"You have been working with the Los Angeles Police Department and other agencies as well."

"I have."

"Now that we have cleared up that little bit of history, let us get back to business."

_**December 31, 2005**_

Matt's flight was due to land in San Diego and CJ was there waiting for him at the baggage claim, the worry she felt obvious to anyone around her. Although he had needed to take a few days to just get away, he hadn't told her where he was going and she hadn't heard from him since he left the morning after Christmas. The holiday had been strange for both of them but along with Stavros, they had made the best of it and even managed to have a little fun, even though they still did hourly checks on the movement of both of Castanos' freighters. Although she didn't think he would go back to drinking and hadn't mentioned it to him before he left the worry was there, but the minute she saw him approach the baggage claim and the huge smile that was on his face her worries were put at rest; he looked far better than he had since the whole Castanos affair had begun, his eyes clear, bright, and that twinkle of mischief was very much present. "Hey there..." He swept her up into a big hug.

"So you decided to come back to us."

"Yes ma'am – did you really doubt that I would?"

"No...but I've been worried about you. You could have at least called."

"Well obviously I didn't have need of a lawyer or bail money."

"That's a point in your favor." They walked out and went to where she had parked the SUV. "So why all the mystery?" Watching as he stowed his bag in the backseat she could practically feel the excitement emanating from him.

"I've got some big news."

"You didn't marry a showgirl did you?"

"Nope..." He opened the passenger door for her and had her take a seat.

"What then?!"

"CJ, when I left here December 26th my net worth was right at $800,000." She continued to watch him, holding her breath. "I'm now worth $60 million." There was absolute silence from her and he could tell that it hadn't sunk in.

"Huh?"

"I'm worth $60 million...well, give or take a few hundred thousand...Uncle Sam you know."

"Houston..." Her face had gone slightly pale. "What did you do?"

"Well I went to this great little place called Las Vegas and..."

"No..."

"Uh huh...poker can be very entertaining _and_ profitable."

"No..."

"Yep..." The smile on his face couldn't have gotten any bigger.

"No..."

"Read and leap for joy, hon – it's true." He pulled out the paperwork showing a transfer to his accounts in Houston.

"This...this can't be real..."

"You're not gonna pass out on me are you?" The smile left and he was genuinely worried about her – the normally glowing complexion had gone white.

"This...you really...OH MY GOD!" She let out a whoop causing three airport security officers to begin moving in that direction until she threw her arms around his neck as she began laughing. "Oh my God!"

"So now we can see about opening up that little detective agency, buying a ranch..." He stopped, trying to overcome the urge to just drop down on one knee and profess his love for her; she might not have thought it sincere considering the news that she had just received.

"Oh dear Lord..."

"Sir, you need to move along now, please." One of the officers had come on over.

"Sure thing, bud. Have a nice day, ya hear?" He shook the bewildered man's hand and went around to the driver's side and slid behind the wheel, driving them back to the little house on the beach where Stavros was now keeping an eye on the ships as well as watching football games.

"Houston, you have come back to us!" He gave the man a hug, noticing that he seemed far happier than he had a few days previously. "It appears your time away has been good for you."

"Oh, you could say that." The smile on the Texan's face was huge. "CJ and I now have exactly what we need to do what we planned." After explaining what had happened, the two Americans were laughing hysterically as Giorgio began dancing around the den of the cottage. When the Greek had calmed down Matt spoke again. "Now – we just need to catch Castanos."


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 11**

**_January 13, 2006_**

"Houston?" CJ tapped on the door of the bedroom that Matt and Giorgio were sharing. Being gentlemen, they had given her the master bedroom with the private bath while they were on a pair of bunk beds sharing the bathroom down the hall on the upper floor. "Houston?" Quietly she eased the door open, hearing the familiar buzz of her best friend as he slept. Tiptoeing so as not to wake the reporter she made her way over and gently shook him, evidently scaring him. As he raised up suddenly he rapped his head on the bottom of the upper bunk, a muffled curse issuing from his lips as Stavros snorted and rolled over, beginning to snore in earnest.

"What's wrong?" Slipping out from under the covers he grabbed a pair of jeans and slid them on as they walked to the door, Stavros beginning to snore louder causing the pair to giggle.

"I hated to wake you but one of the ships has sped up a little bit."

"Which one?"

"The one going to San Francisco." They had made it to the bottom of the stairs and went into the master bedroom where her laptop was on the bed. Yawning, he rubbed his eyes before looking at the screen. The readout from the helm was showing an increase from the standard twenty five knots to almost thirty. Looking at his watch the PI saw that it was a little after two in the morning.

"Well..." He scratched his chest and thought for a minute. "Where exactly are they right now?"

"This one – the San Fran ship – is here: just off the coast of Manzanillo. The other is further south off of Petatlan. Do you think he's trying to make a run for it?"

"Don't know...but not quite thirty knots isn't going to put him here much quicker." He yawned again. "Let's just keep an eye on it – he may suspect that we're watching him and be trying to psych us out." He gave a slight shiver.

"Well then there's no point in being cold." She sat down on the bed, scooting over so that he could join her. Matt froze, what Bill had said reverberating through his mind. CJ had gone back to checking on the ships without a second thought of him climbing into her bed and he chided himself for even thinking what he had as he sat down next to her. "For heaven's sake, get under the blanket before you catch a cold, Houston. Madre Rosa will kill me if you get sick."

As they kept an eye on the progress of the ships, the two talked about the plans for the detective agency and he brought up the fact that he thought investing some of the money would be wise. "What are you going to invest in?"

"Well..." He slid down a little bit under the covers and turned on his right side to face her. "I happened to learn about an oil company that is really struggling right now. And since I happen to know a thing or two about the business..."

"What about Bill?"

"What about him?"

"Are you really going to compete against him?"

"If I don't somebody else will. Besides which I understand he's really been going gung ho on the offshore bit; what I'm talking about is strictly land-based stuff up around Bakersfield."

"How is that going to..."

"I don't know how he'll react, CJ – but I can't live my life wondering what he's gonna think." He stopped. "He's going to just have to realize that I'm my own person." She nodded and he saw her bite her bottom lip. "Come here..." Pulling her closer he took her hand as she put her head on his chest. "It isn't easy for me...no matter how it sounds. But in order to be able to help people...folks who can't afford to pay for it – I've got to have money coming in that I can depend on or there won't be any help."

"How can you do both?"

"I'll just have to..." He leaned his head over on top of hers as he grinned. "But the fact that I've got one hell of a lawyer is a big advantage."

"You're going to need more than a lawyer."

"Yep, I can keep the books up to a certain point but time is going to be a limiting factor. I'll need to find a good accountant – somebody that I can trust."

"We don't even know anybody here."

"Not yet...but we will."

At 7:00AM Giorgio made his way downstairs and as he headed for the kitchen, passed by the bedroom where the door was open and spied the two, stopping in his tracks before having a quiet laugh. _Ahh, I was hopeful, but no – both are still dressed and there is a computer between them._ Chuckling he made his way to the kitchen and started coffee. A short time later both of the Texans found their way into the kitchen where the Greek was cooking up bacon and eggs. "Good morning."

"Mornin'." Matt yawned as he poured a cup of coffee for CJ and then himself before telling the reporter of the change in speed. "I'm gonna call Roddy here in a little bit and let him know. We need to get together and try to lay out our plans in a little more detail so that when they do get here we'll be ready for them."

"That's sounds very wise."

All three met with the captain that morning and along with one of the SWAT team commanders, laid out a basic plan that would involve cooperation from the Coast Guard as well. Now that time was drawing nearer the PI was starting to worry. If Castanos should slip away from them...but he couldn't, wouldn't let that happen – he would die first.

_**Present day...**_

"As the last few days ticked by, we met with a similar team in San Francisco and the same plan was made to intercept the ship in that port. From the way they were traveling it appeared that it would make port first...but then things changed." Matt had set the tea glass down. "The ship headed to San Fran slowed and the San Diego ship increased speed, and then every few hours they would change up again. We knew that Castanos was toying with us, trying to make us jump the gun; we weren't going to fall for it. But finally, it was time..."

_**January 19, 2006**_

"Houston..." Lieutenant Cortez handed the private investigator an AR-15. Taking it, he looked it over automatically. "Done this before have you?"

"I've been back about six months now."

"Oh...guess you've definitely done it before. How long were you in?"

"Four years." He turned to see CJ watching him, a worried expression on her face as he accepted a bullet-proof vest from the lieutenant. Walking over to where she was leaning against the wall of the hallway, he propped the rifle against the door frame and began putting on the vest. "Didn't think I would ever be doing _this _again." Looking up he saw her biting her bottom lip and her chin began to quiver. "Come here." He pulled her in close, wrapping his arms around her, tucking his head down on top of hers. Would now be the right time to say it? No...because if he did and then something happened to him...no. It wouldn't be fair to her. Kissing the top of her head he stepped back and put the rifle over his shoulder.

"Well..." Clearing her throat she gave him the best smile she could muster. "...you look like you're ready to kick some ass."

He cracked up. "I'd rather shoot him...maybe I should ask for a sniper rifle, whatcha think?"

"That's the best idea I've heard so far." She got serious. "I took care of what you asked me to do." Since Matt's net worth had dramatically increased in the last two weeks he had written out a will and had the lawyer tend to it.

"I appreciate it." Looking around he noticed that the rest of the team was just about ready. "I'm gonna try to call Daddy again when I get back."

"Good – I think that would be best." Tears started that she couldn't stop. "I swore I wasn't going to do this."

"Good thing you don't have the war paint on." He gave her that goofy grin that she loved. "I'll be back...seems like somebody in California has said that line before." Both laughed again.

"Houston – we're ready." Captain Rodriquez looked at the pair. From what Giorgio Stavros had told him they were just friends but he found that hard to believe.

"Be right there." Turning back to her, he hugged her again, giving her a kiss on the cheek, just like he had the day they had met. "Keep an eye on the computer for me, okay? I expect to hear your voice coming through my earwig."

"Okay. Go get him."

"Yes ma'am." Smiling again he turned and followed the others out to the two Bearcats that were to be part of the operation, stopping himself from looking back, knowing if he did he wouldn't be going at all. In the back of the armored vehicle he was seated between Roddy and Desmond and felt the detective nudge him in the ribs.

"So I haven't asked but I'm going to..." The dark face lit up. "When's the wedding?"

"It isn't like that."

"Huh..." Roddy shook his head. "You're about the only one who doesn't think that." Both officers laughed as the PI sighed and shook his head.

As they drew near the end of the twenty minute ride to one of the dock areas of Naval Base Point Loma, Houston was ready; all of the evil that Castanos had done had to be answered for, he had to be caught, and Matt knew that he was the prime reason that the investigation had gotten to this point. Even if the murderer was headed to San Francisco and Matt wasn't there for the take-down, he knew that all of the hard work that Stavros, CJ, and he had put into the case was going to pay off that day. His only fear was that the serial killer would take out one of the officers – or more than one. They certainly had the firepower on their side. The main problem would be flushing him out of his hiding place without someone being hurt or killed.

As they passed through the gates of the base, Matt hit the button on his radio. "CJ – got yer ears on?"

"Sure do – you're coming in loud and clear."

"So are you. How're we looking?"

"They're holding steady. Looks like the tugs are about to take control – it shouldn't be too much longer."

"Good – I'm tired of chasing this son of a bitch." He heard a giggle on the other end that brought a smile to his face. "Is Giorgio there with you?"

"He is."

"Tell him the fat lady is getting ready to sing." Smiling he waited for the reply.

"He says – and I quote - "I'm waiting with bated breath."

"Tell him to try a mint." The laughter on the other end helped more than they could know as he once again checked the weapon.

The vehicles pulled out onto the dock as units from the Coast Guard blocked the path northward; other units were prepared to move into position on the south end when the freighter had passed through the mouth of San Diego Bay. Houston stood at the ready as Desmond spoke up. "Here we go – showtime, folks."

"Look sharp, people." Roddy was watching closely as the tugs brought the ship in toward the dock, the captain's voice booming out of the speakers on deck cursing them for their ignorance. As soon as the lines had been secured, a set of ramps was rolled over and the officers along with members of the Coast Guard began boarding the vessel meeting with some resistance from the ship's crew – at least until they saw the number of weapons that were being brought on board. It suddenly got quiet except for the string of curses that continued to come from the captain.

Back at SDPD headquarters on Broadway, CJ felt her pulse race. The plan that had been put together to capture Castanos seemed flawless but until he was in custody she knew none of them could draw an easy breath – her most especially. She was now watching the computer monitors that CSI tech Shari Martinique had up and running showing surveillance video from several different angles.

Matt, Desmond, and Roddy made it up on deck as the crew members were placed in handcuffs and it was explained that they were being detained for their own safety. Once that was accomplished the group divided into their search teams and started through the ship. Matt could hear the chatter on the radios as each of the areas were cleared and the teams moved down through their lists. He and Desmond were stationed on the starboard side of the ship, an assignment that the PI had fought against. Although he knew how much Houston wanted to be the one to take down Castanos, Roddy had insisted that he remain above decks and since he seemed to have a good relationship with Desmond, the captain had paired the two as partners.

The minutes crept by seeming more like hours to the Texan. CJ had told him the night before of a ranch that was just put up for sale by Hollywood legend Ramona Landers and they were ready to go take a look at it as soon as Castanos was in custody. Maybe then he could say those three words. Turning he looked down at one of the tugs below, his eyes landing on a man that was tall...really tall. "Son of a bitch..." Hitting Desmond in the arm he pointed. "That's him – it's gotta be."

"How can you tell from here?" The eyes in the black face squinted trying to make out the man.

"Look how damn tall he is – Castanos is six foot five." Without even thinking he ran forward to the line that was still connected to the tug. Slinging the rifle across his back he went up and over the side and began to shimmy down the line.

"Houston! Have you lost your mind?!" The detective radioed Rodriquez telling him what was going on. As the captain gathered five men to follow him down the ramp to go to the tug, Desmond followed the PI down the line. They had nearly made it when the tall man looked up, an evil smile coming across his face as he saw Houston and stepped inside of the wheelhouse.

Back at headquarters CJ's eyes went wide. "Oh my God...no." She could plainly see as Houston went over the side of the ship and started down toward the tug. "Houston, what in the hell are you doing?" There was no answer from him but could she could hear his breathing.

The PI landed on the deck of the tug, sliding the rifle around into a firing position and was joined a minute later by Desmond. Together they started toward the wheelhouse, their movement coming to a sudden stop as Castanos stepped into view of the open doorway, his left arm holding the captain's left arm behind him and twisted up at a painful angle as his right hand held a knife to the man's throat.

"Mr. Houston, so nice of you to join me." The killer's voice had a raspy, grating edge to it, the Slavic accent giving it even more prominence and reminding the cowboy of nails on a chalkboard. "Drop your weapons over the side..." Neither of the men moved and Castanos jerked on the captains arm, a loud snap was heard and the man shrieked in pain. "Do it now."

Both men still had their weapons trained on him, Matt with his on the killer's forehead but unable to take a shot as the he kept moving. "Let him go, Castanos."

"No..." He jerked again causing the captain to scream once more. It was then that he saw Roddy and his team advancing on the pier and hit the control for the winch which began spitting out the line toward the ship giving the madman a little more room to maneuver away from the dock.

"You're outnumbered, Castanos. Drop the knife and release him." Desmond knew that Rodriquez had made sure that the two snipers that were assigned to the team were homing in on the murderer.

"I have been outnumbered before – just ask your friend Mr. Houston; he can tell you about the bodies of the London officers that I left for him. They made a very good place to leave a note." The laugh that issued from the man's mouth sounded as if it came straight from hell and the cop involuntarily shivered. "But since this is America – the nation of freedom – I will give you a choice: in exchange for the good captain here I will take Mr. Houston...minus the rifle of course."

"No, that's not..." Desmond's eyes momentarily left the target as Matt dropped the rifle over the side, CJ repeating no over and over in his ear. "Have you lost your mind, man?"

"Nope." The PI's voice sounded far calmer than he actually felt. "Let him on out of there."

"You must be half-way to the door before I release him."

"Alright." The cowboy slowly started stepping forward, hearing the voice of Captain Rodriquez from the dock telling him to hold his position. He kept moving forward. "I'm half-way...let him go." He watched as the captain staggered out of the wheelhouse, stopping as Castanos told him when he was even with Houston.

"Come, Mr. Houston; we have much to discuss – our travels through Europe, my victims...I'll tell you all about them." He smiled, looking to Matt like a skeleton with bright blue eyes, the red hair reminding him of flames.

Moving slowly he walked up to the door and then launched himself at the man, doing his best to knock the knife from his hand while Castanos tried to stab him. They rolled around on the floor, Matt hearing the crazy laughter from the killer as well as CJ's screams in his ear until the earwig fell out during the struggle.

Desmond had moved to the doorway but was unable to get a shot without hitting Houston, and two of the Coast Guard boats moved in to block the tug, six crew members pouring over the sides, their weapons pointed at the two men inside. "Hold you fire! Hold your..." The detective's plea was cut short by the knife that Castanos had been wielding as he threw it at the cop, striking him in the neck. As blood gushed from the wound, two crewmen pulled the cop back and began applying pressure as the other four surged to the doorway, still unable to fire as the serial killer had the PI in a headlock, slowly choking the life from him.

Continuing to fight against him, Matt managed turned his head toward the elbow so that he could once again breathe, raised his hand and applied pressure on the elbow joint with his right hand, shifting his hips so that he could use his left elbow to hit Castanos in the ribs. The result was that he was momentarily released, but as he tried to move away the killer grabbed his left ankle and began twisting it just as one of the snipers was about to pull the trigger. The pain caused the PI to arch up and the sniper to lose his shot as well as the crew members, two of which now entered the wheelhouse making a shot by snipers completely impossible. As one of the Coasties lunged at Castanos' head, Matt heard a sickening crunch and realized that the madman had broken the crewman's neck, then flung him away.

Turning back, Houston stopped the second crew member from suffering the same fate as he once again hit a pressure point on the murderer, this one on his jaw; at the same time he drove his left knee into the man's diaphragm, knocking the wind out of him. Another crew member came to help and between the three men they managed to roll Castanos over on his belly and hogtie him. Taking a minute to catch his breath, Matt realized that the murderer was laughing as one of the Coasties maneuvered the tug to the dock allowing SDPD team members to board. Captain Rodriquez was the first through the door and helped Matt to his feet, the left ankle barely supporting him. As the cop helped him out onto the deck Matt saw the lifeless eyes of Desmond Long staring up at the sunny blue sky over San Diego. "No..." He started toward the cop, but was pulled off of the tug by the captain and a sergeant who was on the dock. The sound of sirens approaching came to the PI's ears and he found himself leaning on the rail staring at the side of the boat where blood from the cop's neck wound had splattered and already begun drying.

Seven men hoisted Castanos over the side and put him face down on the dock. As more police officers moved in to replace the belt that had been restraining the madman with handcuffs and shackles the impossible happened: Castanos bolted up from the floor knocking three officers into the water while others began firing on him driving him back off the dock and into the bay. He was grabbed by the officers in the water and pulled back up riddled with bullet holes. Just as he thought he could breathe a sigh of relief he heard a curse go up from one of the officers: "The bastard is still alive...with thirteen bullet holes in him."


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER 12**

_**Present day...**_

"I couldn't believe it...thirteen shots and he was still alive. But at least he was in custody." Matt's story had captured the crew's complete attention. "He was evaluated after he recovered from his wounds and found to be insane; they stashed him away at Cabrillo."

"Until he managed to escape just a couple of years later." Giorgio took over the story at that point. "After hiring three convicted murderers to kill you and very nearly killing one of your ranch hands, Emil Castanos then abducted your partner in Houston Investigations, CJ Parsons." Matt nodded, remembering how scared he had been that day when he couldn't reach her by phone. "Our audience is more familiar with that part of the story so we will not bother you with those details. But I would like to add that she is now your wife." The reporter gave the PI a big smile.

"Yes she is." Matt looked over where she was now sitting on a lounge chair, still listening to her husband and flashing him a big smile, too.

"With your permission I would like to go back a little bit into your story. The viewers have heard very little about the reason why you attacked the officer in Corfu. But when you and I talked on the phone about doing this interview you agreed to speak out about some of the things that were going on in your life at the time." He watched as a slight blush passed over his friend's face. "You were fighting your own demons – not just Emil Castanos."

"I was. My time in the Army, although it taught me a lot about investigating...well...it took a toll on me – not just physically but mentally. Sleeping more than a couple of hours at a time was nearly impossible because of the nightmares. You asked about the officer in Corfu. Two minutes after I walked into the station and tried to give them information on the case six of them tackled me, cuffed me, and put me into an interrogation room insisting that I was the killer. When my patience reached an end with them...I just kind of snapped I guess. I took one of the guards hostage. And that's when you walked in and diffused the situation – something that I'll never be able to repay you for no matter how long I live. I'm very grateful. Later on that night after I fell asleep on your couch you might have regretted the decision."

"I did not." Both men gave a chuckle. "Would you please explain?"

"I uh...I had one of my nightmares and Giorgio here tried to wake me up...and ended up in a headlock." The emotions on Houston's face spoke volumes. "But after I tried to run out of the apartment he sat me down and we talked...which is exactly what I had needed from the first day I got back home. Let me say something here to all you folks who have been in the armed forces and are dealing with some problems related to that. Men or women – because it hits pretty much all of us. Talk to someone. If you aren't comfortable talking to one of the on-base shrinks or psychologists or counselors find someone off-base that's been where you are. Denying that you need to talk things out just makes it worse. I thought that by talking about it with anyone it made me look weak but this man right here..." He pointed to the reporter. "This man saved my life. When I was headed out his door that night I was planning on killing myself." There was absolute silence; tears ran down CJ's cheeks. "He stopped me. If it wasn't for him I wouldn't have a wife, a family...anything. Don't be afraid to talk to somebody."

Stavros left a pause in as the PI collected himself a little bit. "Would you also tell us the rest of it?"

"Like I said, I was trying to deal with those problems on my own and the easiest way seemed to be drinking. Bad choice. Drinking, drugs, whatever vice you choose will NOT help."

"You and I talked the night after Castanos was captured the first time." Giorgio was now trying to get to a point that had occurred to him while they had been researching the serial killer's possible cult ideas. "I showed you once again the Slavic Tree of Life, an image which Emil Castanos had adopted as one of his signatures, and I pointed out not just the serpent wrapped around the roots of the tree but the eagle on top of the tree. It had occurred to me that perhaps you were destined to be the one to catch the killer. You were an American; the symbol of this great country is the eagle. You were also a member of the 101st Airborne Division of the United States Army – also represented by the eagle." He paused again. "Seldom do I have such leanings but this one seemed accurate, although you argued against it."

"I don't know that I believe it today; I was just a man who seemed to get drug into it...trying to help a friend who had lost his wife to a maniac. At that point all that mattered was getting the bastard and making him pay for what he had done. But somewhere along the way while I was fighting, trying to catch up to him, my demons started to leave me. As strange as it sounds, although Castanos was a curse from the Devil himself he was also the beginning of a cure for me."

"I'd like to say something else, too." Matt pointed at the reporter. "This man right here lost his job because of me – because when the chase was over, I wasn't able to talk publicly about what had happened at that point. The memories were too painful. But he didn't press me; he understood that I was still in a vulnerable state and he respected my privacy enough to wait until I was finally ready to speak about it. And I feel like Greece's loss is a gain for the US. He's now one of us – lock, stock, and barrel – confusing phrases and all."


End file.
